


I'm a prisoner get me out of here

by shuckingwolves



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Prison, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, bidding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuckingwolves/pseuds/shuckingwolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sitting alone in a bleak cell, Alex had to admit he hadn’t seen this kidnap coming. Not one of his finer moments. He was starving. The cell was a few feet by a few feet, with heavy iron bars that crossed over into squares and looked dangerously rusty. Maybe if he waited another day he could simply tap a bar and it would crumble. Then, he could escape. He’d seen various types of prisoners in this section, all the type of people you wouldn’t think could get caught up in murder, drugs, government and fighting. The type of things that landed you in here. Exhibit A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet and greet.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so a while ago I said I'd write some Alex Rider or some Power of Five fanfiction in summer so true to my word here's some Alex Rider. I think the books are so great and it really bugs me when people say they're just for guys because the emotional side to them- and anyway why can't girls like action? Anyway, this fandom is so great, the books are great and there deserves to be more fanfiction me thinks- so enjoy!

 

“You’ve got to be joking me.”

It was Wolf who first spoke, upon entering the room and seeing Ben Daniels, professionally known as Fox. That would seem odd in average jobs but this was never an average job. He walked over to the other man, clapping him on the shoulder in a brotherly embrace. They were in a small, almost polite looking waiting room. There were two plush settees facing opposite each other and windows covered with blinds. He wondered about that. What did MI6 have to hide this time? The thought had occurred to him that maybe he was here to talk to K-Unit, receive the call for more training skills needed in Brecon Beacon but he could only see Fox from his unit.  
There were other people, of course. None of them sat. The strange thing was, each one of them only knew one of person in the room. Ed Shulsky knew Tamara Knight, Scooter knew Texas, and vaguely Ben Daniels. Who, with relief realised he also knew someone- Wolf.

“Anyone know why we had to be here?” Ben Daniels asked the general company.

Ed Shulsky didn’t even bother looking at him, from where his calculating look was staring out the window, seizing up the vehicles. Tamara gave Ed a disapproving look, but she didn’t answer either. It was Scooter who spoke up, his voice relaxed and his mannerisms and countenance calm. Yet, Wolf could tell he was going to have a problem with this man, Ed Shulsky too. They were all leaders.

“As far as I can tell, maybe a joint mission between the CIA, MI6 and ASIS?”

Wolf barely resisted the urge to face palm or roll his eyes. Or both. Smart one, this Australian. Hopefully, their mission together wouldn’t last long.

“This mission will take you months. We have no idea how long it will last.” Mrs Jones said as she clip-clopped into her room in small heels.

Peppermint breath in the flesh, Wolf noted. He was also severely disappointed about how long the mission would take. What sort of operation required months to complete? Next to him, Ben Daniels was thinking he knew the answer. He was shaking his head at Mrs Jones, not again, not him. That guy deserved a break.

“What’s our mission?” Tamara asked.

Mrs Jones looked her squarely in the eye.

“Alex rider.”

*

Sitting alone in a bleak cell, Alex had to admit he hadn’t seen this kidnap coming. Not one of his finer moments. He was starving. The cell was a few feet by a few feet, with heavy iron bars that crossed over into squares and looked dangerously rusty. Maybe if he waited another day he could simply tap a bar and it would crumble. Then, he could escape. He’d seen various types of prisoners in this section, all the type of people you wouldn’t think could get caught up in murder, drugs, government and fighting. The type of things that landed you in here. Exhibit A.

There was a babbling, preaching man opposite his cell. Alex didn’t think that unkindly, he just realised the man was nervous and muttered under his breath. On rare occasions, he seemed to realise Alex was present and would look him squarely in the eye. There first conversation, and only to this day, had gone something like this:

“Why are you here? You are young. What have you done wrong?” The man asked, the words tumbling over each other, like they had to find Alex’s ears as fast as possible.

Alex tilted his head, considering. He could tell this man he had been a spy. He could tell him he’d killed people. Important, Scorpia people. He could turn over and ignore him.

“I worked for MI6, CIA and ASIS a year ago. I was a spy, I killed people. I got out.”

The man nodded quickly as the words left Alex’s mouth, as if he had to hear them equally as fast as he’d had to speak his own to Alex. Then, he started murmuring under his breath, raising a necklace, or a pendant, high above his head with two shaking, malnourished arms.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked curiously, crawling as close as the chains around his hand would allow.

The man briefly stopped muttering, his eyes flickering to Alex, like he was watching the very Earth collapse around the young man’s feet.

“Praying for you.”

After another moment,

“You need forgiveness.”

Alex rolled his eyes. At this point, he wasn’t particularly religious but he appreciated the gesture.

“I need to escape.” He said reasonably, sitting back on his heels and watching the man mutter to himself for a few moments.

He shook his head disbelievingly and fell asleep to the sound of the man’s prayers for him. Maybe he had a point. Some divine intervention would be good right then.

That was days ago. Now, another type of person was lead into the room, screaming and crying and basically throwing a tantrum. Because for some ungodly reason they had kidnapped someone currently going through the terrible twos. Or threes. Alex considered. Maybe even fours. He felt his blood pounding with anger as they chained the screaming child, in the cell next to Alex. The poor kid had tears streaming down his face, his nose was a snotty, snivelling mess and his lips were wobbling. He grasped at the guard’s arm, as if wanting comfort, but of course found none. He was shoved away, the guard’s boots sounding heavily on the stone flooring as they walked away.

Alex glanced with alarm at the man opposite him, who had finally stopped muttering to stare at the child. He gave Alex an alarmed, insistent look. The type that said ‘you go late into class first’ or ‘you do the talking not me’ in certain situations. Alex sighed, slightly apprehensively, before scooting over to the side of his cell, his chains rattling as they scraped the floor.

“Hey, hey now. You ok?” Alex asked, reaching a hand through the bar to hold the little kid’s hand.

The kid clutched onto it like it was a lifesaver. Alex laughed quietly, the sound was gentle and like peace in this prison after such brutality before.

“How old are you?” He asked, his voice quiet.

“Four.” The kid sniffed, as if he resented that fact. He probably resented a lot of things right now.

“Four.” Alex nodded, grinning at him. “Pretty grown-up now, huh?”

He said it because he knew that’s what kid’s wanted to here at that age. Alex certainly had. Yet, now he wished the boy would say no because four is way too young to be in an adult world.

“Yeah.” The kid nodded, as if whole-heartedly agreeing and gaining confidence from this.

“How old are you?” The kid asked, looking at Alex with these hero-worship, round, blue puppy-dog eyes.

“Seventeen.” Alex said evenly.

“That’s old.” The kid giggled.

Alex pretended to be astounded by the very cheek of it, which earned him more giggles.

“This type of thing really insults us people over forty.” The man opposite said, luckily not chanting anymore. That would have scared the kid.

As it was, he burst out laughing. Alex tightened his hand around the kid’s little fingers, so small in his own. He realised now why parents had to protect their children. It was like a drive of anger, of fierce protectiveness, fuelling him.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Sam Worth.”

Shit. The guy opposite Alex widened his eyes alarmingly.

“The president’s son?” Alex whispered in dread.

The kid nodded simply.

“Yup. What’s your name?”

“Alex.” Alex answered weakly.

*

“Alex is being held in the IP section. Important People.”

Mrs Jones was talking to Tamara, Ed, Scooter, Texas, Ben and Wolf. They were seated around a table in a modern meeting room, with all the furniture seemingly made of steel. Joe Byrne was also at the table. As was the Prime Minister. Evidently, the President had been busy but sent his apologies. Wolf shook his head incredulously. This was getting weird.

“They’ve offered a large sum of money in exchange for Alex. What these people do is they kidnap criminals mostly, and sell them onto governments or rival organisations.”

She turned a page in the file and fixed them all with a grave look.

“This month they added the IP section.”

She carried on, talking in a monotone voice but Joe Byrne glanced at her with concern, hearing the crack as she bit down particularly hard on a peppermint. The sound was not dissimilar to breaking one’s tooth.

“From what we understand, they have Alex, an inspirational preacher- some say second to the pope. And the President’s son. Among others.”

Wolf covered his face in his hands, soothing the lines of stress there that were being added. Ben patted his back consolingly, casually, like a brother would. His eyes never left Mrs Jones though, left the news about Alex.

“They have not released any information on why or any ransoms yet. Except with Alex. This was sent to us today.”

She clicked a button, on a remote control, which she flicked at the screen.

There was a large sum of money demanded, a picture of Alex in his cell, and information on where to go.

“It is rare for an organisation to meet where they are based when offering a ransom. This suggests they have the best security. Too good to fight.”

“We could try-” Ed Shulsky suggested, annoyance in his tone, but Joe Byrne cut him off.

“Not worth the risk. Read the last line.”

_‘This is a business and as such we are interested in the highest bid. All parties/organisations interested in Alex Rider have been contacted with the same letter.’_

Ed swallowed nervously, glancing back at Joe Byrne.

“That means Scorpia.” Joe confirmed. He hit his fists on the table, shattering them all out of their hopeless thoughts. “That means EVERY DAMNED TERROIST HE’S PISSED OFF...”

He caught his breath, panting slightly, before continuing in a whisper.

“Because of us.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Tamara Knight asked in a small voice.

“Security?” Scooter guessed.

“That and be there for him. We picked you for a reason. He knows you. Maybe even trusts you. If we shove him in the complex with guards he doesn’t know he’ll be less then co-operative.”

“Wait, complex?” Wolf asked, quick to jump to conclusions. Next to him, Ben was frowning to.

The Prime Minister stood to his feet, straightening his lilac tie by running a hand over it.

“It’s been decided that this situation can’t happen again. We buy Alex rider, he’s our possession. He’ll know that. As much as I hate it, for the safety of our country he has to be. We look after him, keep him here. This American complex looks as good as any.”

“You’re referring to keeping a kid in the CIA’s headquarters.” Ben Daniels grit out.

The Prime Minister nodded.

“God help me, I am.”


	2. The bidding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's auction. Needless to say, he doesn't take it lying down. Standing against a wall and bleeding out is a better way to describe it.
> 
> UNBETAD sorry I'll get round to it soon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I'm back from holiday and thought I'd post a new chapter now I have my laptop. And it's a long chapter too (yay). So, yeah, in other words, I don't really know how this chapter happened, the characters sort of moved really fast when I wrote them down and I tried to keep up haha. As always, let me know what you think/ constructive feedback too in the comments :)

It was the preaching man who figured it out first.

The morning after Sam’s arrival, Alex was blinking blearily as light filtered through the bars, dim as it was. He heard the morning lark and if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was at home, lying in his bed, before any of the Pleasures had woken. They never rose early but Alex did. At first, he’d ben plagues with nightmares, and would wake up either in a cold sweat, paralysed to stop the men who he’d completely believed had thrown a bomb into his room even though he knew that they’d been in a dream and windows of reality didn’t simply open and close to Scorpia’s advantage. Or, he would wake up screaming and screaming and screaming until Sabrina would quietly open the door and crawl into bed with him. She would never say anything but she would wrap her arms around him, holding him close fiercely, which Alex appreciated. He hated to be treated like he was fragile. He’d killed people. No amount of hugs would change that. But it calmed him when Sabrina would push back his blonde hair, usually plastered to his forehead with sweat, and whisper in his ear.

“They can’t hurt you. I’m here. That wasn’t real.”

Sometimes, he didn’t know if she was trying to say the dream or the whole experience of being a spy, just to soothe him. He’d remember it in the morning but he never said anything but thanks as Sabrina’s mum gave him a plate of American pancakes. Alex preferred English pancakes.

He missed home.

What he wouldn’t give for even an American pancake now. Anything was better than a tin of food a day. To the point, the preaching man was currently speaking and usually that meant you listen. Or at least, Alex did. He found a strange sort of respect for the man, despite his blatant belief that Alex needed as much forgiveness as possible; he was wise and didn’t waste his words.

So, Alex listened. As always, the man didn’t bother with small pleasantries. Maybe he would have, if they weren’t in this situation of life and death.

“Sam is the Presidant’s son. He’s worth millions of dollars. I’m a respected religious man, Priest Andrews. I’m worth millions of Euros. But you, you Alex,” And here his tone saddened. “You are worth revenge or restraint. There is no price that people won’t pay for secrets and for pride to be covered in a blanket of more lies.”

“That’s the first time you’ve told me your name.”

“I hope that’s not the only new information. I don’t like to waste my words.”

Alex nodded, glancing away, his eyes resting on Sam’s sleeping form.

“I know.”

There was quiet for a moment.

“Do you have a plan?”

Alex glanced up at the man, his eyes wide in surprise. He’d thought the man would wait, would have patience with fate and what not, something Alex didn’t particularly have himself.

“I never have a plan.” Alex shrugged.

He wasn’t that concerned. A plan always seem to present itself. Many of his opponents, the M16 officials included, believed he had the luck of the devil. At that moment, the door to Sam’s cell was unlocked by a rattling chain of keys and a single guard. Alex eyed the guard suspiciously.

Of course, they could be giving the kid breakfast, but Alex highly doubted it, judging by the purposeful footsteps those heavy boots were making, that glittering silver in the man’s hand, that practically evil smile on the guard’s face.

“Wow. A knife. Mucho guy, huh?” Alex called out, heart pumping fast, hands clamming, not knowing if the distraction would work.

The guard gave him a disgruntled look, pausing only for a few brief seconds, before proceeding to take a few more steps towards Sam, who was starting to stir awake from all the noise.

“Going to hurt a four year old? I’m sure your parents are very proud. That must be one to boast about.” He drawled out his words, careful to make them sound much calmer than he felt.

The guard had stopped in his tracks again. By now, Sam was blinking in confusion, glancing between Alex and the guard with a small frown on his face.

“Do you want me to knock your teeth out or summin’?” The guard growled.

Alex leaned back against the wall, legs crossed over each other in front of him, looking for all the world comfortable with the arrangement of his hands shackled to the wall.

“Or ‘summin’” He imitated.

The guard growled, clutching the knife so tight that his knuckles hurt.

“Alex, I don’t think this is a good ide-” Priest Andrews began.

Alex waved a hand, that clinked the metal of his cuffs against the wall, dismissing this entirely before the sentence had even left the Priest’s lips.

“Nonsense.” Alex smiled. He turned his attention back to the guard.

“So is this an order? Or do you threaten to knife kids as a habit?” He let his eyes drift over the man’s trousers. “To compensate, maybe?”

The guard roared with anger, grabbing the door of Sam’s cell, wrenching it open and stomping over to do the same with Alex’s. He was fast, in Alex’s face within a second, inches apart. Alex cocked a brow. He’d seen this type before. They always thought a kid wouldn’t fight back. That they wouldn’t know how. This type of guard were always enraged when he did. He remembered an incident a few years ago with a freezer, remembered his nonchalance about the guard being inside it, recalled how M16 hadn’t been best pleased.

“Try me.” Alex grinned. “If you think you’re big enough.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a dare.

*

That same morning, the group of misfit soldiers and agents pulled together to help Alex woke in their assigned rooms. Ben Daniels had to admit that the accommodation was much nicer than that which he was used to on assignments but he’d trade all the comfy mattresses in the world for this situation to not be happening. Rider was in a world of trouble. No doubt, he wouldn’t be pleased when he got out of it and…into this. Whatever this plan was. Shit. That was what it was. A shit way to treat the best agent M16 has ever seen.

But, to a degree, sensible. M16, SAS, ASIS, CIA, IQR….all of them were keeping their cards close to their chests for once, trying to keep their best weapon in the armoury, instead of slashing its shape in battle all the time.

“He might need some rest and reoccupation.” Ben voiced aloud.

It was the first time one of them had spoken since the meeting.

“Are you kidding me? He’s gunna hit the roof.” Ed Shulsky growled, glaring at the air.

Scooter hopped out of bed, hoisting himself down from his bunk with one arm.

“Kid’s a spitfire.” He chuckled, throwing on a new top.

Texas nodded his agreement, emphasizing it with huge, earnest eyes. Wolf sat on his bottom bunk, the one below Ben’s, in silence. He was glaring at his feet. A knock on the door snapped their heads all to attention. Tamara Knight walked in, dressed in combat clothes.

“Oh good. You’re up. Get dressed.” She smiled. “We’re going Alex hunting.”

*

Parole was every afternoon; they would walk around a square courtyard in the middle of the complex. Alex had his suspicions that this building used to be a prison and despite renovation, was being used for more or less the same purpose. Sometimes, he saw prisoners, ones that looked like criminals, having telephone calls. He thought about Priest Andrew’s idea that they were here for ransom, because they were important. He simply didn’t fit into that equation. A lost variable with no coordinates.

Usually, parole consisted of walking solemnly around the square patch of concrete until the cramps and pent up energy had wormed their way out of his limbs. He would follow behind Priest Andrews and not say a word, watching the guards, who were stationed at intervals, with wariness.  
Today was different. Because today there was Sam. Sam who had shadowed Alex’s side the entire journey to the courtyard and upon seeing the guards there, had clutched Alex’s hand tightly and not let go. Sam who was currently tripping over his legs, he was so exhausted. Alex frowned. The kid had only been here for around a day, maybe less, he was understandably tired from the ordeal. He didn’t have the need to stretch his legs like the other prisoners. Technically, this was their ‘free time’. That’s what one of the guards had told Alex on his first day, the guard had used quotation marks with his fingers and sniggered, so Alex had assumed it was an official rule that was never followed to the ‘T’.

Which was why he didn’t hesitate to scoop Sam’s legs up in his arm and mock through him in the air, never really letting go but earning himself some giggles from the four year old.

The guards watched, frowning, but Alex pulled Sam closer to his torso, the kid’s legs automatically hooking around Alex’s waist and his arms around Alex’s neck. The kid was looking over Alex’s shoulder so Alex felt unconcerned as he gave the guards his best murderous glare. He wanted them to know he may be kind to this child but never to them. That they would have to cross him first, a dangerous thing to do, if they wanted to hurt Sam.  
The guards clenched their jaws and tightened their hands into fists but didn’t comment. It was only when they reached the door to the cells again, that one of them put an arm out to stop Alex. Alex glared a warning at him, over Sam’s shoulder. The guard shrugged defensively, shaking his head at Alex. This wasn’t about Sam. Alex nodded warily, placing the kid back on the floor, his hand on Sam’s shoulders, guiding him towards Preist Andrews. The Preist’s eyes were troubled but he nodded at Alex and left, holding Sam’s hand. Sam looked back, lip wobbling and eyes watering.

“We have to go back for Alex!” When Preist Andrews didn’t respond, only scooped him up to walk away faster, Sam started twisting in his arms. “Alex! ALEX!”

The door closed on them. Alex turned to the guard, who coughed awkwardly.

“Phone call.” He said gruffly.

Alex followed him without speaking a word.

*

“I want Fox and Wolf out on this mission, nobody else.” Mrs Jones pursed her lips at the line of agents before her. Scooter, Texas, Fox, Wolf, Tamara and Ed.

Joe Byrne was sat at his office desk, trying to remember that the British sense of humour was very different to the American. Even Alex had shown him that. He hoped to God that Tulip Jones was joking now. If her sour expression was anything to go by, he thought she wasn’t.

“We need as tight security as possible. Scorpia will be there. Terrorists will be there. And you’re suggesting we only bring two men?”

Mrs Jones sighed impatiently, standing next to the desk.

“These people holding Alex have better security than us, otherwise we wouldn’t meet at the complex. There’s no point trying to battle our way through, or scaring Alex by showing him a bunch of agents he’s worked with and making him suspicious. But two agents shows we’re prepared and we care about his safety. No…Fox and Wolf will go with us. He knows them best.”

Ed Shulsky opened his mouth to interrupt, hierarchy be damned, when the phone rang. Joe Byrne stared at it as if it were an elephant with monkey’s ears.

Mrs Jones frowned at him.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” She asked in clipped tones.

“My PA usually does, unless it’s _deadly_ important…then I handle it.”

He licked his dry lips, as silence fell in the room, and a single voice spoke into his ear.

“Hello?”

The voice sounded nervous, apprehensive, almost like the owner didn’t know who would be on the other end of the line.

“Alex?” Joe Byrne exclaimed, clutching the phone to the side of his head in a skull crushing grip.

The agents in the room bristled and stilled, Mrs Jones cracked another peppermint into the silence, the sound like another one of her teeth snapping.

“Who is this I’m calling?” Alex asked, his voice dangerously calm.

“You don’t know? But you rang us. It’s Joe Byrne, from CIA.”

Alex cursed. A few muffled shouts belonging to Alex, a grunting reply from the other end of the line, and then Alex was back, talking fast.

“I didn’t know it was you. They thought I’d want to talk to you, last call and all that. But I don’t. So I’m hanging up now.”

As blunt as ever.

“ALEX! Alex, wait.”

“What?”

“Are you ok?”

“Like you give a fu-”

Wolf had stepped out of line, snatched the phone from the head of CIA and was growling into the receiver.

“You think that’s any way to value your life, cub?”

“You don’t give a flying shit about my life, Wolf. What are you doing there anyway?”

But Alex knew that was wrong. He knew it was all wrong. He was lying, but they were too. They always kept something, some magic trick up their sleeve, some ace in their hand, and they never told him about it until everything had fallen to shambles around them. Wolf ignored his question.

“Is the President’s son with you? Is he safe?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Alex said, somewhat tiredly, with a note of…bitterness?

“Cub?”

“I said he’s fine, Wolf.” Alex snapped. “I got it covered, alright?”

“What does ‘covered’ mean?” Wolf growled.

“This is monitored and there are guards glaring at me. It means it’s covered. Priest Andrew is here too, but you probably knew that. He’s safe. He prays a lot.”

Wolf bit down on his frustration at Cub’s voice turning from frustration to sad in the space of twenty seconds.

“We’re coming to the bidding.”

“The what?”

“The bidding. We’re going to get you out of there, Cub.”

“That word, say it again. So I believe you.”

“Bidding.”

“Huh. That’s what I thought you said.”

The line went dead.

*

From the other end, Alex groaned, glaring at the guard who’d hung up the call, and was currently standing over Alex with his arms folded. He didn’t seem too impressed.

“I didn’t even want to phone them and when I do you hang up.” He glared at the guard.

The guard didn’t so much as blink.

“We thought you would.”

“Best pals we are. They’re exactly who you need to phone in a life or death situation.”

The guard gave him a curious look, as if to say oh, I thought they were before roughly taking Alex’s arm and leading him out of the phone room. Alex would have tried to escape but guards with automatic weapons were stationed at every door.

*

The head of the complex, a man named Senior Rascal, sat in the security room, watching as his men showed him the live footage of the VIP wing. He was curious as to what that recorded phone call had meant. What the teenager had meant when he said ‘covered’. Senior Rascal had grey, straw-like hair, that gradually darkened at the back. He wore a yellow open necked shirt, tucked into basic jeans, with brown smart, leather shoes and a grey-white wash blazer jacket over his shoulders. The jacket was memorising in texture, almost like rough carpet or sandpaper. Flecks of the two colours blended the grey and the white together.

Now, two guards walked into the room and headed towards Sam Worth’s cell. They needed Sam for a phone call to the President. But Senior Rascal was interested in Alex’s survival plan. Whether it would succeed or not. Whether it was for Sam’s survival or Alex’s.

The guards had no sooner walked towards Sam’s cell than Alex’s mouth started moving, and their heads turned towards him.

“Do not fall for the bait. Whatever he’s saying- hey, get me some audio on this!- do not fall for the bait.” Senior Rascal barked, his temper flaring.

If they didn’t heed his warning, he would have to shoot them for wasting his time. They walked over to Alex’s cell instead, opened the cell door and initiated in a fight that for a moment looked like Alex would win. The boy had successfully kneed one guard in the groin, leaving him rolling around in agony on the floor, and had pinned the other to the wall with his forearms, his eyes lighting on the key in this guard’s waistband. Fortunately, one of the guards managed to do something right for once, there was a warning shout from the Priest, who was usually so quiet, and the guard who had been on the floor was punching Alex on every inch of skin. The other guard, now released, started kicking. Alex doubled in on himself on the floor. Sam was crying. The Priest swore and asked for God’s forgiveness.

“STOP.” Senior Rascal ordered. “It’s not necessary.”

The guards left, locking the cell. Alex stayed doubled in on himself for a few moments, before turning his head to the side and throwing up. Senior Rascal tilted his head to the side, considering that natural. The guard he’d kicked in the privates had also done the same to Alex. He reconsidered the teenager, as he watched Alex crawl to a corner in his cell and mumble that he was ‘fine’ to the four year old. The four year old was fine. And Alex, it seemed, had this covered. As much as they wanted, they couldn’t go near Sam Worth. Alex’s track record showed he killed, the phone call today showed he wouldn’t care if they threatened him with a gun. It would be less messy, easier even, if they waited for Alex’s auction.

The two guards were another matter.

They didn’t heed his warning, later that day he would have them shot for wasting his time.

*

It was nightfall, two hours after the two guards’ deaths, and three minutes until Alex’s auction. When Joe Byrne, Tulip Jones, Ben Daniels and Wolf arrived at the complex, their car was shown to the parking spaces and when they stepped out, Joe Byrne had no doubt it would be searched in their absence. A guard checked the ‘invitation’/ransom letter they were to present at the door, before nodding quickly and ushering them through. He lead the way through the corridors, which were lined with other guards holding automatic weapons and cells full of burly, tattooed, smoking, stereotypical criminals.

They seemed to move into a different section. Wolf caught sight of a sign overhead stating ‘masterminds’. Here, they saw jittering faces, pacing inmates, heard hyena-like laughs. Mrs Jones opened her mouth to speak, recognising one of the criminals. The guard beat her to it.

“Grade A.” He waved his hand in dismissal.

Finally, they reached a sign entitled ‘VIP’. The guard grinned, Ben Daniels grimaced at the feral look, as he looked them straight in the eye.

“Grade A*.” He announced, before opening the doors.

Wolf and Ben Daniels had difficulty controlling their rage at the ‘behind the scenes’ footage. They walked through a corridor filled with vaguely familiar faces, has-beens from TV, a presenter here, a prestigious artist there. Thankfully, a lot of the cells were empty. This VIP wing was new. They didn’t have many people yet.

They rounded a corner and Wolf noted another sign. ‘Security code red’. The guard they were with typed in some numbers, too fast for them to see, into a machine. A light turned green and the door swung open to reveal three cells. One had a dishevelled Priest Andrews, who was praying, muttering under his breath, his eyes fixed on another cell. Alex’s. Alex was sat down here, seeming for all the world casual with this situation, his ankles shackled to the wall. Around his cell, were a few business-dressed people peering in at him. He ignored them, glaring straight at a man in a yellow shirt, grey-white blazer and jeans. When his face hit the light, they could see it was littered with bruises. Wolf curled his hands into fists as his eyes fell to the last cell. A four year old boy sat, crying silently, but otherwise unharmed. Wolf understood, with a wave of anger, what Alex meant by ‘covered’.

The man Alex was content to glare at for hours turned at the sound of the door closing behind them. He clasped his hands together, his eyes lighting at the sight of them.

“Great. Now we can begin.”

Joe Byrne, Mrs Jones, Fox and Wolf all walked slowly over to the people gathered around Alex’s cell, who were now stood to the right side of it, in ordered lines. They joined the back of these lines and waited for the man in the suit to speak. Joe Byrne glanced to the left and clenched his jaw, seeing a Scorpia executive smirking at him. One that should be behind bars.

“My name is Senior Rascal. I’m originally Spanish, I’ve lived a wealthy life, and found a way to make that wealthier. This way, to be exact.” He waved a general hand around him, smiling condescendingly at Alex.

“This is, in fact, the first time Alex has met me, so forgive him his hostility.”

Alex didn’t even blink. He simply kept glaring at the man, like he would love to strangle him. Ben Daniels snorted despite himself, causing Alex’s head to snap towards him, earning him a curious stare. Alex frowned, turning his head back, all the better to glare at Senior Rascal.

“Now, you’ve all received the note and must’ve gathered my security is very good, which it is, so please don’t try any attempts on each other’s or my life. I gather there is some bad history between some of you.” He chuckled, glancing between the Scorpia representatives and the Government ones.

“The letter also states we expect a starting bid of 1 million dollars, that will not be bargained with, but it can be raised, depending on separate parties’ interest. We shall go over the worth, first.” Here he glanced at Alex, humoured and a little surprised to find the boy was ceaselessly glaring at him still. “And then start the bidding.”

The only way Joe Byrne would describe the next scene that unfolded, was trying to put a leather belt around a wild crocodile’s mouth. Senior Rascal motioned for two of his guards to open the cell and step inside, causing Alex’s head to snap towards them, his expression that of innocent interest. The men tried to hold him to his feet, hold him still, but Alex wasn’t having it. He had them both holding their stomachs in pain, leant against the wall, glowering at him.

“And that was for the Scorpia representatives, thank you, Alex.” Senior Rascal laughed.

Indeed, the Scorpia representative were looking interested, one was jotting down notes, another fixing Alex with a calculating gaze. Wolf hadn’t thought it possible but Alex had tripled the hatred in his gaze as he glared at Senior Rascal. The man seemed unconcerned.

“As you can see, unique with fighting abilities, and most important to note….do. not. underestimate. him. Now, as for Government representatives…”

Here, Senior Rascal gave the merest of inclines of the head, signalling the two guards to move. Alex, taken by surprise, had one guard holding arms back, and the other pulling his hair, so his face looked to the ceiling.

“…restraining may be slightly difficult, but with the right strategy…nothing to it.” He clicked his tongue, as if to say it could be done in the time it took to do that.

“Any other questions?” He asked the group of people.

“Abilities?”

“Listed on the letter.”

“Sexual preference?”

Alex eyes bulged. Senior chuckled, it was to be expected. Somehow or other, most adult celebrities enticed this question. Unless they were all lip botox and no real attractiveness.

“Female, I believe?” He shot Alex an inquiring look, before shrugging at the incredulous one the teenager gave him. “There were rumours about Yassen but I heard you and Sabina got on well.”

Senior Rascal smirked as Alex’s jaw clenched.

“Languages?”

“Couramment dans les deux langues, des compétences dans l'un mais ce n'est pas de vos affaires.” Alex growled, interrupting.

Senior Rascal chuckled.

“Shall we start the bidding?”

Alex’s stomach dropped to his toes.

“Let’s start at 1 million 500…”

After a while, they were down to only two people.

“With the blue jacket, looking for five more…”

“Señora with the peppermint….”

Alex held his head in his hands. He hated this. Nothing more than a possession, an object, something to own and boast of, or own and destroy. The scrutinizing was possibly worse. Senior Rascal stopped briefly, to glance smugly at Alex.

“It’s pretty close. Which one would you prefer, young Alex?”

“Nada.” He spat.

Senior Rascal chuckled again.

“I thought you’d say M16! They’d be nicer than Scorpia!”

“I’d rather die.” Alex said evenly, staring straight at Joe Bryne, who consequently swore under his breath.

The Scorpia representative dropped his hand from the air.

“In that case, we stop bidding.” The man shrugged, eyebrows raised, in challenge, at Alex.

Quickly, Alex glanced towards the group of Government representatives. Ben Daniels, Wolf, Joe Byrne and Mrs Jones. Why both M16 and CIA? Why Fox and Wolf? It didn’t make sense.

He could envision himself as their secret weapon for years, trained and filed as theirs from day one. No. He wouldn’t do that. Anyway, he couldn’t leave Sam here. Sam would never survive without him. Priest Andrews would but the amount of terrorists that would try to outbid the president…  
Whilst Alex was thinking this through, he could see, in his puerperal vision, the two guards attempting to sneak his hands into cuffs. Almost absentmindedly, he twisted round and kicked them both in two target areas on the torso. They fell to the ground. He looked up from chewing his lip and staring at the floor, to find Senior Rascal’s paling face staring at him with incredulous eyes. They soon turned to angry, within a split second a knife was hurtling through the air and thudding into Alex’s side. Alex cried out, stumbling back, almost tripping over the guard still lying in pain on the floor, and held onto the wall for support. His breaths were quicker, shallower.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

“Are you kidding? You’re chained to the wall! I just stabbed you! I don’t think you’re in any posit-

Alex grabbed the hilt of the knife, his eyes dangerous and locked onto Senior Rascal’s. He had to make this the best possible scenario. There was no way he wasn’t going to be sold but he could still help Sam.

“You open the door and let Sam go with the Government too.”

“No. Absolutely not.” The man was shaking his head adamantly.

“If I’m sold to them.” Alex jerked his head to the four Government representatives. “I don’t give a crap if I die now.” He turned the knife and yelled out as blood seeped into his shirt.

The burning sensation of knife against muscles, against his body seared through to his mind with white hot pain. But the thought of being MI6’s bitch, their pet, their pawn…he was out of that life and God help him he wouldn’t go back to it. They were the reason Jack was dead. The reason his mum and dad were dead. The reason his uncle was dead. He couldn’t belong to people like that. He’d rather be dead to.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Sam screaming at him to stop, he saw, through his blurry vision, Fox and Wolf stand to their feet in protest.

“Nobody likes damaged property, Senior.” One of the Scorpia men drawled, leaning back lazily in his chair.

Sweat was beading on Senior Rascal’s forehead, neck and upper lip. The insistent praying was grinding on his nerves, the younger child was screaming his lungs hoarse, the value would decrease, he could see it in the Scorpia’s words and Joe Byrne’s demanding eyes.

“The President gets the first offer to pay. That’s all you get, Alex.” He snapped.

Alex paused, halting the knife he was twisting inside himself. He nodded, fingers limp and bloody on the hilt, head thrown back in exhaustion as he let out an exhalation of something close to relief, for someone who would rather die than be with MI6 and CIA. Then, Alex glanced at Sam and smiled reassuringly and Senior Rascal understood Alex’s relief was not for himself. It was for Sam.

It took a few moments for Joe Byrne to ring the president, who instantly agreed, then a few more moments for the money to be paid through, and finally Alex slowly pulled the knife out of his side.

Senior gestured for Wolf and Fox to take Alex and Sam before walking over to Joe Byrne and Mrs Jones to receive the payment and negotiate the damage. The other parties/organisations were filtering out of the room by the time Ben carried a calmer Sam in his arms. Wolf entered Alex’s cell with some apprehension, before shaking his head at the tired cub, lifting him in a fireman carry and merely ignoring Alex’s protestations.

“You can’t walk, Cub. Don’t even try that with me.” He snapped.

He felt the kid sigh, resigning to being carried to the car. When they reached the exit, a guard halted in front of them.

“Look, they’re paying. But this one’s bleeding out, if you don’t mind.” Wolf tried to brusquely shoulder past.

Behind them, Sam whimpered slightly.

“Wolf.” Ben reprimanded.

“Shit.” Wolf said tiredly, remembering that Alex seemed protective of the kid.

“ _Wolf.”_ Ben hissed, as the four year old giggled.

The guard shrugged, holding out a string of rope and nodding towards Alex’s limp form.

“Better now than when he’s alert, trust me.” The guard warned.

Wolf took the rope but didn’t say anything. They got to the sleek, black car easily enough. Fox strapped Sam in, there was no booster seat but they hadn’t seen this eventuality coming. Alex was going to be a little more complicated. Fox rolled his eyes. Wasn’t that always the case? Wolf had taken his own shirt off and was tying it around Alex’s torso, to apply pressure to the wound. He placed the palm of his hand on Alex’s cheek, not tenderly, but almost in understanding.

“You hang in there, ok, Cub?”

Alex mumbled something incoherent as Ben strapped him in. Wolf glanced at the rope burning guilt into his hand.

“Do you think we’re going to need this?”

Ben’s next words were laced with sadness.

“It’s Alex Rider, of course we’re going to need this.”


	3. Damaged Goods.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's first introduction to life in government headquarters doesn't go well. And he doesn't even know they want him to stay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my days. Sometimes you write something and you finish the scene in a blur and your like 'wow. I can't believe I just wrote that.' This is one of those times. I also apologise for any rude language, if you take offense easily at those sort of things, that's just what the characters said when I saw the scene happening! ;) 
> 
> I'm going to give you fair warning: flashbacks. 
> 
> PS I'm sorry if this isn't that good :( it's late I shouldn't write this tired but I needed to add another chapter to this story c'est la vie.

Alex opened his eyes blearily, waking as they turned onto the interstate.

“Alex? Alex, are you ok?” Sam’s voice.

Sam! Alex sat up at once, glancing around bewildered.

“Cub! Don’t you dare move again!” Wolf’s voice.

Alex blinked again, properly taking in surroundings. Mrs Jones and Joe burn sat in the front of the large car. Sam was sat a seat away, wrestling with his seatbelt. He appeared by all means and manners to be attempting to undo it, his eyes wide, staring at Alex’s side. Alex glanced down.

Oh yeah. The blood.

Memories pressed in on his thoughts, sharp and malicious like the knife that had been twisting in his side hours before. Slowly, Alex looked up from his wound, now wrapped in a t-shirt that was slowly turning red, to see Wolf and Ben. They were sat further back, this was one of those fancy cars that had three rows of seats, and they were glaring at him.

“Why?” Alex asked.

His voice was hoarse and the notes sounded broken, like someone had trampled all over their life. Wolf understood that Cub wasn’t asking about why he shouldn’t move. He was asking why bother, why bother to save him. M16 hardly ever did. Wolf frowned at that thought because was this really saving?

“Because I said so. You’re bleeding out, Cub. We’ve stopped the worst of it but we don’t have a medic here to be sure.” He glanced at Fox. “Where’s Snake when you need him, eh?”

Ben Daniels laughed but it was a brief sound, more like a short, harsh exhalation of breath. Mrs Jones glanced back from her seat. Joe Byrne focused on driving, his knuckles white as they clenched around the wheel. He wanted to make sure Alex was ok too but the letter had said to come alone, and they needed a driver. On the other hand, he was glad he didn’t have to look, didn’t have to feel guilty.

“Take the rope off my hands.” Alex said, struggling to speak the words around the pain.

“Alex…we can’t do that.” Mrs Jones said.

Once again, Alex saw the mum she used to be in another life, somewhere where her children hadn’t died.

“Why. Not?” He demanded, still talking around the pain with sharp breaths.

Meanwhile, Sam had finally managed to undo his seatbelt without arousing suspicion and was crawling towards Alex. His small hands walked across Alex’s thighs, like a cat would before deciding where to sit, and then he’d plonked himself in Alex’s lap, nestling his head against Alex’s torso, despite the blood-soaked shirt.

“Hey.” Alex said gently.

“Alex, there’s red stuff on you. That’s blood, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Alex said softly, avoiding the kid’s eyes.

Sam was not the type of toddler to be satisfied with an elusive answer. He put his small hands on both side of Alex’s head, flat against his temples, and turned Alex’s face towards him.

“My dad says when there’s blood on someone they’re hurt and I should call 911. Do you need 911 so he can help you?”

Alex laughed quietly. The sound was so different to his seething breaths before that Wolf stared incredulously. They needed to keep the president’s kid around Alex for as long as possible. Then, he wouldn’t have to deal with Alex’s attitude.

“Good idea. Got a phone, Wolf?” Alex called back, a hint of his old self glinting in his eyes.

Sassy. That’s what Alex Rider’s old self had been. Sassy. Wolf had, momentarily, forgotten that side to him existed.

“No, Cub.” He said evenly.

Alex shrugged, turning back to look at Sam.

“Worth a shot.”

They all caught the double meaning. Worth asking for a phone call to get him out of here.

“We’re almost there.” Joe Byrne announced, to the general company.

“Where?” Alex asked calmly, absent-mindedly stroking back Sam’s hair from his forehead.

Ben tilted his head, considering. Alex seemed to be subconsciously calmed by Sam’s presence, as if succeeding in saving one kid from this messed-up spy world would somehow save him too. For Alex, even the deal with Senior Rascal was the same as what he was doing now. He was deciding it was too late for himself not to be sold to this manipulative game but not for Sam. Sam still walked away with his childhood in his pockets.

“Classified.” Mrs Jones replied coldly.

They had to be professional. She was head of M16 now and she would not put Alex in danger again, she wouldn’t make the same mistake as Blunt. She would, however, push away her motherly instincts because as much as she hated it, Alex Rider had been forced back into their world again. It was only a matter of time before Scorpia decided they’d had their fun, now they wanted to win the game.

Alex nodded, as if accepting that, but they could all tell it was a bitter action. His dry tone confirmed it.

“What? I don’t get clearance to that sort of stuff anymore?” He paused, raising an eyebrow at Sam. “Wherever will I get my gossip?”

Sam giggled, hugging his knees to himself.

“Daddy says journalists.”

Alex laughed quietly.

“Does he now?”

The small boy nodded earnestly, encase Alex would ever want to talk to one of these ‘journalists’. His dad said they made the papers, when he had asked. His dad also said so did the celebrities.

Joe Byrne expertly parked the car in his reserved spot and killed the engine. The car had been granted access upon site. Everybody knew who was in it. He climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut. Mrs Jones began to do the same. Alex’s expression grew wary, he glanced at the rope around his hands, tied securely to the driver’s inside mirror in the front of the car.

That was when Ben Daniels put one hand on the row of seats, jumped over them and picked Sam up from Alex’s lap. He rested the four year old on his hip, jiggling him up and down to comfort him. Sam frowned but didn’t say anything. These men were dressed in strange clothes. Like the ones on ‘Action Man’. He’d always preferred Iron Man.

Following suit, Wolf jumped the row of chairs as Ben Daniels got out of the car, on the opposite door to Alex’s, carrying Sam with him. Wolf looked at Alex for a long moment, all his tiredness, recognition and sadness for Alex held in that one gaze, trapped between their eyes, lost to time.

“How we gunna do this, Cub?” Alex could hear the tiredness in Wolf’s tone as well.

Alex cocked his head slightly.

“Do what, Wolf?” His eyes searched the older man’s. “Get your ass kicked or take away my dignity.”

“Alex…”

Wolf crouched down next to him, so they were eye level. He hated standing over Alex, like he was superior. Once, he would have revelled in it but now it felt wrong. Sadistic.

“I know they bought you out. I know that you know they’ll get you into this world again. But cut the drama. I know it’s harsh. But do like we did in Brecon Beacons and deal with it.”

Alex nodded slowly, digesting that information as bullshit. His expression said as much, even if he didn’t.

“If you think I’m their only possession, just because I’ve been ‘bought out’.” His tone with bitter enough on these two words that Wolf could imagine the quotation marks. “Then you better take a look at yourself.”

Wolf nodded too but his eyes purposely hid what he thought of this information. Because, despite if you ignored Alex Rider’s claims, the kid had always shown they were true. Take Damian Cray, for example. He shook his head, as if to empty it, before untying the rope from around the mirror and holding it tightly, bracing himself. He expected Alex to buck, to beak like trapped bull seeing red for the thousandth time.

Alex would have done, too, if he hadn’t caught sight of Joe Byrne, Mrs Jones, Ben Daniels and Sam Worth staring at the cars tinted windows nervously. They didn’t know what was happening. Whether he was cooperating or punching Wolf before he ran for the hills, or more accurately the city.

He saw Joe Byrne, a man who had, despite previous accidental waterboarding, always been on his side. Mrs Jones to, to an extent. He saw Ben’s paled face, his hands clutching onto Sam just too tightly to be calm. He saw Sam, biting his lip, his small little hands curled into fists, as if he could help, as if he stood a chance against Action Man.

So, Alex glanced at Wolf tiredly, stood to his feet and sighed.

“You’re going to have to open the door, you know, Wolf.”

Alex lifted his tied hands and let them fall back down in front of him, as if to reiterate his point. Wolf stared at him, dumbstruck, before composing his features, nodding curtly, and opening the door.

But his eyes had challenged _touché, Cub, touché_.

They exited the vehicle without fuss, Wolf locking it behind them, with his spare hand. Alex was busy reading Joe Byrne and Mrs Jones reactions, his eyes travelling along the lines of their frowns like they would a page in a book.

Satisfied that they were reading him like a plot twist, and not a page, he turned his gaze to Sam and smiled reassuringly. It was a small smile but he saw the kid visibly relax. Ben Daniels too, judging by the man’s tension seeping out of his shoulders. They walked in silence over to the main door of the building. Wolf was holding Alex’s rope but not exactly leading him.

They reached the double doors and Alex glanced up at the sign above, structured into the building, glinting steel. They’d had a refurbish. Centurion International Advertising.

They couldn’t be more blatant if they tried. Alex shook his, incredulous at how discreet the most secretive industry in the world was.

“You guys should really change the sign.” He’d said, as he stepped into enemy territory.

*

It had gone by in a blur, being rushed into the elevator, the open stares of the receptionist on the phone, the tension that entered any nameless guard when he saw them, the elevator music- like ballet in confined space was ever a good idea- and then, finally, being led down another floor, this one higher up. Ben Daniels had carried on walking, still holding little Sam on his hip, murmuring reassurances that Alex wouldn’t get hurt.

“Not again? Not by the Action Men?” The little boy had whispered back.

Ben Daniels had frowned at that, smoothing back the kid’s hair from his forehead.

“No. Not again.”

Meanwhile, Alex had been led into a room that looked, and smelled, sterile. He scanned it, taking in the green curtains for privacy that never worked, taking in the disinfectant on the walls by the door, taking in the metal hospital bed, taking in the team of people and his eyes finally landing on a woman who sat in the middle of it all. To be less metaphorical, she was actually sat at the back, on one of those basic, uncomfortable, metal chairs you often find in hospital waiting rooms. She was young. In her twenties. With blonde hair that cut short at her shoulders and a business suit that was accompanied by a tailored black skirt to match. Her high-heels looked deadly. They were black too. She held a clipboard in her hand and appraised Alex assessing. He wondered if she was his doctor but no, that person was stepping forward, asking him to lie down on the bed.

“Then we’ll see what damage you’ve got in that side of yours.” The woman asked.

She was bronze skinned, her brown hair cut just after her jaw. Her honey eyes were trusting, caring, only wanting the best for her patient, wanting him to be better. So, he did what she asked. He could hear Sam screaming down the hall. He was screaming ‘DADDY’. For a brief moment, Alex was pleased with the result of his kidnapping, imagining the President’s relieved face. No parent should go through that. His thoughts returned back to his current situation and he rethought his relief.

“Ok, Alex. My name is nurse Judy. Can you unbutton your shirt for me?”

Alex nodded, but his eyes were facing the ceiling, still taking in the details of the room. There was a TV in the corner, like those in hospitals, like that one in…he blocked that thought, clenching his fists as he placed a physical barrier in his mind against it. He glanced to the right to distract himself, but that was just wall. He decided to undo his buttons like she asked, that would distract himself from that memory, glancing at her and smiling weakly. Wolf and Joe Byrne stood over his bed, both with their arms crossed. Joe was tapping his index finger on his chin but Wolf was simply glowering at the situation. When they had walked in, Mrs Jones had taken a seat next to the business woman and they were still talking in the same hushed tones even now. As Alex’s gaze fell from nurse Judy, to something in the background behind her right shoulder, the hushed tones broke, cut up by the business woman’s gasp.

But Alex wasn’t hearing her. He wasn’t even seeing them anymore. They were just shadows, bleak and meaningless. Like they had been then. His mind was flashing, flashing, flashing as he stared at the tray of doctor instruments. For minor surgery, maybe. But his mind was gone, his sense was gone, he was screaming, screaming, screaming. For them to let him go. He saw Julian’s face hover above his own, then Razim’s. He saw the TV waiting for him, the button taunting him with the reality of losing of a loved one and then explosion after explosion after explosion. In his mind. On the screen. He couldn’t take that. She couldn’t take that. The flames licking the ground, burning his lungs with the memory. His limbs and muscles fighting against the restraints, his voice screaming wordlessly, his pain measured in broken scales.

In reality, his limbs and muscles were fighting against Wolf and Joe Byrne, as they fought and struggled to hold the teenager down. Joe Byrne thought of that phrase, ‘kicking and screaming’ often used by mums worldwide to describe their grumpy, antisocial teens and bet they hadn’t meant to this extent.

The business woman was on her feet, shouting at them.

“COVER THAT FUCKING TRAY NOW! TAKE THE TV DOWN!”

“Wha-?” Wolf asked.

“JUST DO IT SOLDIER!”

When Wolf failed to understand the idea of letting Alex go so that only Joe Byrne held down the world-class spy, all to cover the doctor’s tools from view….oh.

He had crossed the distance with one large stride, not only covering the medical instruments but picking them up and throwing them in the bin, which was in the corner of the room.

“Shit.” The head of CIA swore, struggling to hold Alex down.

The kid would hurt someone soon. Or himself. They had finally seen the bucking bull in Alex.

“THE TV- THAT’S AN ORDER, WOLF!” Mrs Jones shouted.

Wolf complied immediately, walking over to the TV. For a split second, he seized it up, frowning with confusion about how to sort out the TV. He tilted his head, considering. Presumably, it was attached to the wall. With an expression that clearly read screw it, Alex’s next screamed pierced his ear drums and he grabbed the TV with both hands, yanking it from the wall by pure force.

Alex’s next scream died on his lips.

He could see the business woman, stood in front of him, an expression of satisfaction on her face, her hands on her hips and a tired sigh heaving out of her lungs. She looked at him. Straight in the eye.

“Well, no wonder none of them ever took psychology at school.”

Alex sat bolt upright, already feeling doctor Judy’s gentle fingers gripping his shoulder, trying to guide him back to a lying down position. Alex, resolute, stayed sat up, his torso fighting against the persisting. Eventually, nurse Judy gave up, walking over and sitting down in the chair the business woman had occupied. Alex only felt slightly bad. He knew this nurse wanted the best for him and it wasn’t her fault Alex had been Razim’s prisoner. But Alex was too busy staring at the business woman, like he could see her unbelievable words floating around her lips, the letters dripping subtext onto the hollows at her neck.

“What. The. Hell.” He said slowly, each word like a death glare.

She shrugged. Joe Byrne straightened, from where he had been leaning against Alex’s bed, both hands gripping the corners of the end tightly, his breath seething.

“Exactly. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” He shouted, punching the mattress.

The strings hurt his knuckles but he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t even seem to notice. He was staring straight at Mrs Jones, then his gaze fell on Alex.

Alex finally led down, resting his head against the pillow, ignoring their incredulous stares and heaving a sigh.

“You just bought damaged goods, Mr Byrne.” He answered quietly. "And there's no receipt."


	4. Mothers meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex, CIA, MI6, Wolf, Fox and the President have a mothers meeting. Triggers: Suicidal thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so it's been a looong while since I've written fanfiction so you'll have to bare with how my writing is for that, sorry. I am SO sorry for the wait for this chapter and if you have waited all this time kudos to you! Basically, I've been swamped with a few changes to my life, starting sixth form, starting a new job with too many hours, personal reasons but I don't want to go into all that so I am very sorry but I will always try to finish a fanfiction story as best I can so here we go again- no promises as to when the next update will be but I will try to be better at it! Unfortunately, I've not had time to edit, this is unbetaed and probably has a few typos but enjoy! :) Also, I haven't added italics in yet but will get round to that! 
> 
> Let me know what you think, thanks for the feedback so far always appreciated!!

After an examination and temporary patching of wounds, endured through a strained atmosphere, Alex was finally led along the corridor and into the room where Sam and the President were. This room had a long table, floor-to-ceiling windows and modern chairs. A meeting room. Alex smiled slightly at the double meaning. There were already people seated at the table. Posh, confident, bored looking people. The President was sat at the head of the table, with Sam sat on his lap, his arms hooking around his dad’s neck. Ben Daniels was stood to the side, his back pressed against the wall, as if he could melt into it. Wolf followed suit. Alex frowned, a brief flash of confusion appearing on his face. Seeing this, Mrs Jones, walking beside him, whispered discreetly.

“No, Alex. You’ll be sat at the table today.”

That was about all she had time to say before Sam’s little head turned and his eyes lit up at the sight of Alex, seemingly alive and well. He jumped from his dad’s lap, remembering a second later to double back and grab his hand, pulling his dad along with him. When he’d got within a few metres of Alex, however, the little boy forgot about polite introductions. He dropped his dad’s hand and ran at Alex, who obediently lifted him up and bounced him in the air, like he had done in that dreadful prison courtyard. Sam giggled just as much, the laughter a much needed solace to Alex’s ears. Sam stayed perched on Alex’s hip, as Alex finally looked towards the President. 

“I cannot thank you enough, Alex. You have my undying gratitude for saving my son’s life.”

Alex’s throat had become too small to allow any words out. He nodded, biting his lip to refrain from commenting. Despite the President’s words, undying gratitude wasn’t usually associated with being government property. He noticed a few of the adults sat at the table were glaring at him. He cleared his throat with his free hand, the other was supporting Sam’s weight. 

“I’m glad I could help Sam.” Not this. Not these people. Not even you.

“Yes. Me too.” The President smiled warmly, though everyone in the room could see through Alex’s words.

The door opened and a sectary stepped in.

“Mr. President, your car’s ready.”

The President nodded, taking Sam from Alex. Sam frowned but clung to his dad. The President bent down, trying to place Sam on the floor. Sam clung tighter, arms hooked around the president’s neck, stage-whispering.

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“It’s fine, Sam. I’ll be down in a moment. Clare will look after you in the meanwhile. Then, we’ll go home, see mum and have pizza for dinner. How does that sound?”

Sam’s expression was still hesitant, his eyes wavering between the door and his dad’s face.

“I heard Clare is great at telling stories,” Alex visibly bit down his disgust before continuing. “Ones with big, action men, with swords and dragons and the whole palace goes ka-boom.”

At Sam’s widening eyes, Alex shrugged nonchalantly. 

“That’s what I heard.”

Sam’s head turned quickly to look at Clare The Secretary, who was currently glaring daggers at Alex for his fib. Sam’s eagerly started walking towards her, chattering to her about whether the dragons spat orange fire or purple. Joe Byrne decided to leave with the child and sectary, just for security and the President's peace of mind. Wolf and Fox stayed with Alex, blending into the wallpaper.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room afterwards, as the adults stared at Alex with interest. Alex glanced away, looking at the windows. Looking wasn’t the right word. Perhaps, ‘casually assessing’ them was. Wolf didn’t like that look. The contemplating of it. Cub was either about to climb the wall for escape, or jump it for escape. Neither would end well.

Mrs Jones and the President were moving back towards the table now, straightening their clothes, smiling polite smiles, glancing back to check-

“Alex.” Mrs Jones said sharply.

Alex glanced up absent-mindedly, he had been gravitating towards the window with a strange look upon his face. 

“Nice to see a view, huh?” The President remarked with a friendly ease.

Alex nodded, eyes watching every movement of the miniscule cars and people below. It was nice to see a view instead of bars, the same old square feet of room and sparse lighting all around. It was nice to see the sun filling a blue sky. But he wasn’t out there. He wasn’t one of those people who had their free will, who could take a walk in the sunshine or only have the traffic to complain about.

“Can I open a window?” Alex asked. 

They were staring at him, frowning, confused, suspicious. He decided to play on his vulnerable teen image. 

“It’s hot in here.” He explained, looking slightly flustered.

Mrs Jones nodded slowly. Wolf opened his mouth to object but she glared him into silence. She turned her head towards Alex again. 

“Go ahead, Alex.”

Alex nodded quickly, opening the window and allowing the cool, fresh air to breeze across his features. The President clapped his hands together. The sound was loud but did nothing to take Alex’s attention away from that world outside. The free world. 

“That’s better! Some fresh air in here! Perhaps we should send for refreshments before we start?”

There was a general consensus to this, the adults seated around the table murmuring and nodding their agreement. Alex was still transfixed. He took a tiny step forward. If he took gradual steps, they wouldn’t notice, until he’d taken one too many. That thought sent a spike of fear through him but he tried to stay calm, and was dangerously so. He would not go to the dark place that being MI6’s pawn made him. He would not go lower than that. It had been bad enough blackmailed into it, but as their property…no, he would never do that. He hadn’t fought for freedom for it to be taken by someone else.  
He hadn’t jumped all their hoops just to face a ring of fire. 

“Alex, come sit down. We have some matters to discuss.” Mrs Jones spoke in a clear, crisp voice. 

Alex took a fraction of a step forward, towards the window. Someone left the room to ask about refreshments. Friendly chatter filled the room as they waited. But still Alex stood stock still. Wolf’s eyes narrowed in on the Cub’s feet. Maybe not so ‘stock still’ after all. Alex was taking baby steps to the window. Wolf strode forward, ignoring Mrs Jones’s orders to ‘stand still, soldier’.

“GOD DAMN IT, YOU TAKE ONE MORE STEP, CUB-”

Everybody was frozen. Then time sped up. Alex’s foot left the air, stepped over the ledge and then- Wolf was on him, rolling on the ground with him, trying to pin him down as the M16 teen spy hit him in all the specific areas to wound that were in the text book. 

“WHAT IS THE POINT? WHAT IS THE FUCKING-

“ALEX! DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK LIKE-” Mrs Jones began.

“-POINT IN LIVING-”

Alex was running out of steam, punching pathetically now, without energy, without anything left to give. Wolf still held him down, pinned in a vice-like grip. He was losing circulation in his arms, Wolf’s fingers digging into his skin. Alex let his head thump onto the floor behind him, exhausted.

“-when there is so much to die for?” His words came out spitting and hissing, scolding into Wolf’s conscience. 

The room fell silent. Cold. The President cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Well, you won’t be doing much dying staying here. That’s the general idea. So, shall we continue?”

Alex let his eyes drop from Wolf’s face, staring at the window still, with a mournful expression. 

“Not willingly.” He said simply, his tone tired.

Wolf cursed under his breath, not really fancying the prospect of forcing Cub to stay sat at a table, discussing his future with MI6. He was still pinning the teen to the floor.

“Alex-” Mrs Jones began.

Alex tilted his head upwards on the carpet, staring at her with eyes so exhausted that they couldn’t pretend to hide anything now. This was it. This was how he felt. They couldn’t change that. 

Mrs Jones nodded. Alex was rather alarmed to see tears in her eyes, not falling but still there nonetheless. She straightened up, suddenly business like, brisk in her manner. She cleared her throat.

“Right. In that case, Wolf? Ben? Could you be so kind as to escort Alex to his seat?” Her words were cold, detached. They had to be. 

The two men wore grim expressions, Wolf even glancing up from his current position of holding a struggling teenager down to glare at her. They pulled Alex to his feet, one holding each arm. Wolf did so perhaps too jerkily, anger still coursing through his system. They walked Cub over to the empty chair and placed a hand on one of his shoulders each, gently but firmly shoving him into the seat. Alex glared at the table, still continuing to resist, despite the fact his hands were currently behind tied behind his back. When this had been done, Wolf and Fox stepped back but hovered on either side of his chair, upon Mrs Jones’s single to stop.

“First off, Alex, I’d like to say I am extremely grateful to you for saving my son’s life and I wish we didn’t have to do this. But we want to save yours as well.”

Alex said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes staring defiantly at the table; he refused to look up, to reason with this idea.

“You want to waste it.” He said venomously.

They ignored that.

“The likely hood that Scorpia and other terrorist organisations are now interested in you is not a question. We bought you out. You could be being tortured now, facing a powerful organisation whom you have insulted numerous times. But you’re not. Because we stepped in.”

This came from a middle-ages man, clean cut haircut, morning stubble still on his chin but a remarkably clean image given his suit.

“I know I’m young but can we stop we the school boy lecture, please?”

This earned him a few tusks around the table from disapproving older members, a warning glare from Mrs Jones and a good-humoured chuckle from the president. Alex looked to him, surprised. The president’s expression sombre, the laugh died in his throat, the smile died in his eyes as he seemed to remember something upon seeing Alex, something spoke of recognition of a sad fact. Alex was fairly confident he didn’t want to know. 

“Alex, whilst we won’t restrain you if you show willing, we will if you don’t. However, to make this transition easier, we’ve recruited a few faces you might recognise, possibly even trust if not like.”

The President nodded towards Ben and Wolf. 

“Those are only two of a six person team.”

The President paused here, as if unsure how to word the next piece of information. Alex wasn’t really sure he’d liked the last all that much either. 

“We really want to make this transition from hostility to accepting being in our care as easy as possible. And for that we’ve had to make a difficult decision.” 

This next pause was not dissimilar to that in Simon Cowell’s famous ‘and for that reason…I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay’ line. The President finally spoke.

“We are not allowing you any contact with Tom Harris or the Pleasures.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Alex deadpanned.

The President spread his arms in a conciliatory gesture.

“We may reconsider once you have become more comfortable with the situation.”

“No.” Alex said angrily.

“No?” Mrs Jones frowned at him. “Don’t you want to speak to them?”

“I mean no. You can’t do this.”

“Look, can we just get on with this?” One particularly bored looking member around the table grumbled.

Alex would have stood to his feet with rage had he been able to, as it was he leant as far forward as possible, straining against his bonds as he shouted at the man.

“YOU ARE TAKING AWAY THE LAST FAMILY I HAVE! I THINK WE SHOULD DAMN-WELL DISCUSS IT FIRST!” 

“Alex, calm down.” Mrs Jones said slowly, enunciating each word, raising her voice.

“I WILL NOT CALM-”

Alex was cut off by the sound of skin slapping skin, he didn’t flinch or move but stayed still despite the stinging sensation across his entire right cheek. He glared at the young man opposite him. This man had been silently watching the entire scene unfold, until his impatience had gotten the better of him. Losing time wasn’t an affordable mistake. The quicker this was over with the better. Babying the kid wouldn’t get them anywhere. He was their property. He had to act like it. 

“You are our property now. You should damn well act like it.” He hissed at Alex.

Alex said nothing in response, his defiant glare speaking volumes. An older man further down the table had been watching Alex with something akin to pity. He cleared his throat and began talking. All these people were seemed to be forgettable faces and nameless names to Alex. His mind was still reeling.

“You will be staying in CIA HQ, here, for now. Until we think it’s safe enough for you to move to another HQ or safe house. At the moment, CIA and MI6 have teamed up for this operation. However, I have no doubt others, such as ASIS, will be interested in due course. We haven’t yet informed them of the recent changes to the situation.”

“I’m not taking another mission. You can’t just lend me out like a book again.”

Wolf frowned with confusion at the last word on that sentence, Ben frowned in understanding of its meaning. He had been there when Alex was with the ASIS and he had seen how easily they manipulated the kid, blackmail, ‘hands are tied’, the whole charade.

“For the moment, that’s not an issue. We won’t be putting forward for a mission any time soon. This is just to build ties and relationships.”  
Alex ignored how Mrs Jones spoke that last sentence as an assurance. It was anything but.

“How long will I be-?”

“As long as we deem necessary,” The young man who had slapped him cut in. “If you attempt to shorten this time through escape, your ‘friends’ from the forces will have no option but to use force on you. Do you understand?”

At this point, Wolf opened his mouth to argue that he would not use violence against a teenager, least of all Cub, when Mrs Jones shot him a warning glare, as she cracked down on another peppermint. Alex still hadn’t replied. 

“Do you understand?” The man raised his voice. 

“Yes.” Alex all but growled.

The man nodded, pleased with this, before turning to look around the table. The President spoke up.

“We realise that perhaps this help may be rather late but we wish for you to attend therapy sessions here once a day, for half an hour, to begin with.”

“No. I don’t need that.” Alex said in a calm, even tone. 

There was an undercurrent of danger in his voice though. Next to him, Mrs Jones sighed heavily. 

“Yes, Alex, you do. The amount of trauma you have been through is worse than any adult should have to, even a spy. You are attending these sessions and that is final. Wolf and Fox will escort you there.”

He nodded, acknowledging the threat underneath her sympathetic, apologetic tone. Wolf and Ben will have to drag you in there if you try to run from this. We will fight you if you fight us. Even though, this was Blunt’s mess in the first place.

“Is that all? Because I’m quite tired.” He said bluntly. 

The President nodded, standing. The entire company rose to do the same. Wolf and Fox untied Alex, only to tie him as they had done before, with his hands in front of him and Wolf holding the ‘lead’. Like he was MI6’s pet. Alex had always thought he’d never murder anyone, never have the stomach to do so. Right now, he was tempted to murder the next person to pretend and exchange ‘pleasantries’ with him. 

“Thank you all for coming.” The President nodded at them, dismissing the present company.

When the majority of the room had left, only Wolf, Fox, Mrs Jones, Alex and the President remained. The President walked over, until he stood before Alex.

“I truly am sorry about this, Alex. Blasted government schemes…sounds odd coming from me, I know. I didn’t know what I was in for when I got elected.”

He smiled briefly before seeming to remember his line of thought, returning to it with a fresh mind and optimisim.

“Still, life goes on. I want to help in any way I can. I won’t have you bullied or blackmailed or beaten. I don’t want to hear it. I should fire that man just for slapping you. I need to speak to some people about the ‘use of force’ issue.”

He glanced at Mrs Jones here before clearing his throat and continuing.

“If I should hear about it being used frequently and casually, they’ll have me to answer to. I know you may find it difficult settling in here, you may not like the rules about no outside contact, therapy or just being here. So, I’ll try to arrange a ‘play date’ with Sam soon, with Joe Byrnes’s secretary. I think the man himself was helping guard Sam, so I best be off. Goodbye, Alex.”

Alex nodded, having not said anything throughout the entire exchange and having been too shocked to do so now. When the doors swung closed, Mrs Jones turned to Wolf and Fox, who were also wearing grim expressions. The whole meeting had been a disaster. 

“Just take him to his room and make sure he rests. Nurse Judy has sent some sleeping pills and pain meds to his room already. I want you to watch over him tonight, keep the door locked too. We can’t be too careful. Security is on red alert, okay? You have the codes for his room?”

“Yes, ma’m.” Ben replied calmly.

“Good,” Mrs Jones said swiftly. “You have his schedule?”

“Yes, ma’m.” It was Wolf who replied this time. 

She nodded, pleased, before turning to Alex with a sigh. 

“I don’t think the President could have worded it any better. I’m sorry about this, Alex, but we are trying. And those who don’t try to help you settle in well will have to face the consequences. If you need a shower, nurse Judy requested not to get water on your bandages. Breakfast will be brought to your room at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Alex nodded, staring at her without interrupting the entire time. She held his steady gaze until Wolf and Fox started to walk him over to the door. Before he walked through, he paused, snorting at some thought that had occurred to him.

“Blunt messed this right up, huh?”

Mrs Jones nodded, her eyes reflecting her sadness. A brief, rare show of emotion from the woman. Wolf and Fox were startled. But Mrs Jones had had a family once. Two kids. They had been taken from her. Even though Alex was safe, it still felt like he was being taken from his life. From himself. She tried and failed to keep her voice steady.

“Yes, Alex,” She held his gaze, seeing the pain there. “Yes, he did.”


	5. "Settling in".

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's first day in CIA headquarters obviously doesn't go as the CIA planned...this is Alex Rider, after all.  
> Triggers: Flashbacks, swearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Super, super excited to give you guys this chapter! Been working on it since the last, so I think this chapter's really long too (yay!). Hope you guys like it. Warnings mentioned in chapter summary.  
> Oh I haven't had time to change all the italics (I've done some) once they were taken out of word but I'll do it ASAP :)

When Alex woke up the next day, his head was throbbing, there was a sick taste in his mouth but for once he wasn’t in a cell…was he? He was in a luxurious prison, not dissimilar to that which Alexi Sarov had provided for him to be his ‘son’. Alex pushed that thought away immediately. He didn’t want to dwell on that past. The pillows were soft underneath him, he blinked and his eyes focused. He was in a four poster bed.

“Good. You’re awake.” Wolf’s voice.

Alex glanced to his right to find the man sat in a nearby arm chair, watching over him.

“Wh-”

Alex started again when his voice croaked.

“What happened?”

Wolf simply shrugged.

“As soon as we tried to lock the door, you wouldn’t co-operate. Said you didn’t want sleeping pills, you didn’t want to be in a locked room, and you didn’t want us.”

Wolf paused here, smirking.

“Very nice of you.”

Alex rolled his eyes. Wolf took this as his queue to continue speaking.

“We radioed back and were told to shoot you with a tranquiliser.”

“WHAT?” Alex shouted, sitting up too fast, his vision swaying.

“Ah, I see he’s awake.” Fox commented, smiling teasingly.

Fox had opened the door carrying what looked to be a tray in his hand. Alex stiffened. The gesture was not lost on the soldier and other spy. They both shot him a puzzled look. Fox cleared his throat awkwardly, before laying the tray next to Alex on the bed, by this point the teen was rigid with reluctance to go near it. The tension seeped out of his limbs when he realized it was just food. Nothing silver or sharp glinting its malicious threat. Instead, there was a plate of bacon, sausage, eggs and toast with a glass of orange juice. Usually, Alex would have loved the traditional English breakfast. Today, not so much. Today, he felt vaguely sick.

“I’m not hungry.” He said, glancing away.

Fox frowned.

“Alex, you have to eat something. The portions have been especially weighed out to accommodate for your stomach not being used to food.”

His tone sounded bitter, this caused Alex to look back up at the man.

“I feel sick.” He said simply.

Fox sighed loudly.

“You’re not leaving until you eat one thing off that plate, Cub.” He announced, folding his arms.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Alex protested.

Wolf, still sat in the armchair, laughed. Alex shot him a death glare.

“I’m having a shower.”

Alex announced, ignoring the breakfast, and attempting to stand on his feet. He’d only got as far as throwing the covers off him and his legs over the side of the bed before gentle hands pushed him back.

“Listen to Fox, Cub.” Wolf said quietly.

Alex, exasperated, threw his hands in the air.

“Fine. But if I throw up on you, I’m not apologising.” He warned.

Wolf chuckled but, pleased with that, sat back down in his arm chair. Fox still hovered by Alex’s bed, waiting for the teen to take the first mouthful. Begrudgingly, Alex decided to pick up the toast, as his stomach really wasn’t up to much. He took the first few bites before blanching and dropping it in his lap, crumbs falling onto the covers.

“ _Alex_.” Wolf warned.

Alex shot him another glare before picking up the toast and continuing to eat it. Fox hadn’t thought it possible to eat something with defiance but that was what Alex was doing, crunching loudly, taking snappish bites, glaring at the both of them. He almost wanted to laugh.  
When Alex had finished, Fox smiled at him. Wolf shot the teen a shit-eating grin.

“See. Not so hard.” Wolf commented.

Alex flipped him off, earning a deep sigh from Fox. Wolf glared at Alex.

“As much as I tolerate your behavior, Cub, others won’t. You heard that guy yesterday. They’ll force us to use force on you. Just tread careful.”

“This is me treading careful.”

Alex said and flipped him off again, before stalking to the bathroom and slamming the door. Wolf sighed, resting his head in his hands. It was going to be a long day.

*

Alex deliberately took as long as he could in the shower, which wasn’t actually too difficult to do as avoiding dampening his bandages meant he had to wash his hair first and then scrub body clean separately, not so much standing under the water as letting one limb at a time wash clean.

By the time he was done, thick condensation had gathered on the window, Alex grabbed a towel that covered him from the waist down, shivering as goose pimples crawled his upper body at the change from shower temperature to air temperature. He reached across the toilet to open a window, thinking he’d fogged up the mirror enough, before it jammed against the lock, refusing to open. Confused, he tried again, fruitlessly. Frustrated, Alex unlocked the bathroom door from his side, he’d locked it after all, before yanking the door open and striding into the living room.

“Why the hell did you lock the windows?” His voice wasn’t shouting but it was raised.

It was then that he stopped short, reaching an abrupt halt at the entrance to the room. Standing in front of him, ready and waiting, were even more babysitters. Alex all but growled. Fox was leaning against a wall, looking quite content with himself, and Wolf was even worse. The SAS soldier was perched on top of the adjoining kitchen’s countertop, leaning back on his hands, grinning.

Alex, with a frightening cold glance, swept his eyes over the people he had worked with in past missions. Texas, Scooter, Tamara and Ed. Great. Just great. His gaze finally landed on Wolf, who wasn’t grinning anymore, he felt dangerously close to cringing.

“The windows. Why are they locked?” He asked, voice cold, clearly content on ignoring the other people in the room.

“Cub-Alex, these people are here to help you settle i-”

“Yes, but why are the windows locked? It’s like a sauna in there.”

“Because we don’t want you wriggling out, got that, Cub?” Wolf bit out, clearly frustrated too now.

Alex stared at him for a long moment, Fox was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of that stare.

“Got that, Wolf.” He said, tone dripping in sarcasm.

Ed Shulsky, thoroughly fed up of this little act of ignoring them by now, cleared his throat pointedly. Alex turned his face towards him, fixing him with an affrontingly bored expression.

“What?” The teen asked.

“Introductions.” Ed grit out. “We’ve been stood here for the past five minutes, waiting for you to acknowledge us and I won’t stand to be ignor-”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be reacquainted with the two that stood back and sent me into space,” Here, Alex gestured towards Ed and Tamara. “And the two who promised a nice, relaxing campfire whilst fully knowing it would end with my foot over a stupid pressure pad!”

“You were never in any danger.”

Both Scooter and Ed paused, looking at each other. They had both said the same sentence, at the same time. Alex snorted at that.

“They’re here to take you on a tour, well, Scooter and Texas are.” Fox said plainly, distracting from the current topic of conversation.

Alex looked at him, reading his eyes briefly, in a way that Ben Daniels considered to be frankly disconcerting for a teenager, before nodding and dropping his eyes to the floor.

“I’d rather not.”

“Alex. You don’t have to fight us all the time-”

Alex glanced sharply up, cutting Wolf short with a defiant stare that held onto some last shreds of pride.

“I’m not. There’s just some places in here that I’d rather not revisit, kind as the offer is.”

“If that wasn’t sarcasm, I don’t know what is.” Scooter muttered to Texas, who nodded his agreement.

Wolf frowned, hopping down from the kitchen counter.

“Like where?” He pressed.

Alex shook his head.

“Forget it, let’s go on this bloody tour.”

“ _Alex.”_ Wolf growled.

“What?”

“Language.” Wolf reprimanded, still frowning.

Alex shrugged, walking back to his bedroom to search for something decent to wear. What did you wear when being held captive by your own government and shown around your nice new ‘home’? Alex decided on a plain white t-shirt and denim blue jeans.

“Like you give a shit.”

Wolf barely managed to restrain himself from yelling an unprofessional retort. He pinched the bridge of his nose, clamping his jaw shut and taking a deep breath as if welcoming patience.

“Well, I think that went well.” Texas commented enthusiastically.

Scooter shook his head at him.

*

They returned from the tour around 11 o’clock. Alex was actually feeling tired now, having walked the entire complex, seeing the people typing at desks glancing curiously at him, whispering to each other, seeing the ‘training’ rooms, the guards being pointedly introduced to him, and finally walking past an isolated block that sent shivers down his spine, he tried not to look on it as Scooter recited the basic information.

“That there is the block the CIA use to interrogate. But don’t worry, we won’t be going in there anytime soon!”

Texas laughed easily with him, Alex even managed a smile, though he felt uneasy, restless, the memory of suffocating, of rough material covering his face, darkness, water and the increasing sense of foreboding that he would really and truly die here. Alone. Without a chance to explain who he was. In the dark. And who would even care for that? Would MI6? Would Jack?

Ultimately, that situation had led him into another and another and another, until he was in the one he never wanted to be in with Jack. He’d gotten her killed. He could still see the flames, licking the road, as they burnt his conscience.

“And that brings us back to the start again!” Scooter announced, keying in a code for Alex’s ‘wing’ of the CIA.

Apparently, he had the west wing all to himself. He had to admit, that was quite an extend of welcome, although it didn’t nearly cover up for the fact that he was here against his will as ‘property’ of MI6 and the CIA.

When they walked inside, Wolf, Fox and Nurse Judy were waiting. She beamed at him as he walked in and he fixed only her with an equally warm smile and a politeness of gaze.

“Good morning.” He said.

“Unbelievable.” Wolf muttered darkly under his breath.

Fox scoffed, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Good morning, Alex. I need to review your immediate wounds again. I’ll give you some new bandages too, encase you dampened yours in the shower at all.”

Alex nodded obediently, despite the look of uncertainty on his face. She gestured to one of the two settees in the living room and Alex sat. She knelt in front of him, gesturing again, this time for Fox to pass her the medical kit she had brought with her. She carefully undressed the bandage, cleaning it with the same care. Alex hissed through his teeth as the alcohol stung his wound but it only lasted a minute or so, before she was dressing the bandage again and nodding in satisfaction.

“Good, you didn’t get it too wet in the shower.” She spoke whilst she tilted his head.

“There’s a few cuts and bruises but you seem fine. Although if your pupil dilation is anything to go by, tired and thirsty.” She shot Fox a look. “Make sure he drinks plenty of water.”

She smiled back down at Alex.

“How’s your appetite.”

“The idea of eating makes me feel sick.” He shrugged honestly.

She nodded understandingly at that.

“Yes, it would. But try. You need to get back on track.”

With that, she smiled fondly at him, handing Wolf a set of recovery exercises she wanted Cub to do for his muscles to become less tense. Wolf nodded and they watched her silently as she left the room. The door had barely shut before Tamara walked in.

“Have you given him lunch yet? Ed says his therapy is in half an hour.”

Fox ran a hand down his face, a clear sign of stress.

“We’ve just got through the medical stuff. Scooter and Texas took longer than we thought.”

“Yeah, where’d they take you, kid, the bloody North Pole?” Wolf growled.

Alex rolled his eyes, standing to his feet and walking to the kitchen, at Ben’s frown, he sighed, talking whilst he made the plainest sandwich he had ever eaten.

“I can make my own lunch.”

Ben was still frowning.

“Didn’t look like you put a lot in there-”

Wolf waved a hand, dismissing it.

“You heard what she said. He won’t want to eat much. As long as you eat that in thirty minutes, Cub, I couldn’t care less.”

Alex nodded, content with that. The Wolf he knew and loved.

*

By the time the next twenty seven minutes had rolled around, Alex was feeling decidedly tense and nervous about this whole thing. He brushed the last crumbs of his sandwich from his mouth, his stomach still coiled like a spring, ready to vomit at the slightest of changes. He tried not to think about that too much. Tamara smiled warmly at him.

“Ready to go?” She asked.

Hesitantly, Alex nodded. He stood to his feet, fully prepared to follow her, but found his legs would not obey. His mind was screaming at him that this was a bad, bad, bad idea. He froze.

“Cub? You OK?” Wolf asked, gruff concern in his voice. That must have cost him his pride.

Alex opened his mouth to speak but found it only croaked. He quickly clamped it shut and tried to speak again, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I’m not going.”

They stared at him.

“I don’t want therapy. I don’t need it.”

Wolf shook his head angrily.

“Don’t give me that bull. You may not want it but you need it.”

Ben Daniels stepped forward, frowning at his old team leader’s aggressive, demanding approach.

“How bad can it be, Alex?” He deliberately used the kid’s first name.

Alex turned his gaze slowly onto Ben, searching for some truth in his eyes. Bad, bad, bad. His thoughts answered, echoing in his mind. Flashes of horrifying scenes were running his mind, taking control and he wanted nothing more than to push them away, ignore them.

When he was silent for more than a minute, Ben repeated his name. Alex glanced up, with almost a politely shocked look on his face, as if he had forgotten he was currently holding a conversation in the room and not just in his head, locked down with his thoughts. His lips twitched in the corners, a mockery of humour.

“You don’t want to know, Ben. It’s a bloody massacre in here.” He laughed hollowly, tapping his head.

“Jeez, when we said therapy, we didn’t mean with Fox.” Wolf grumbled.

Tamara frowned and Fox shushed him.

“Cub, we have schedule. We need to keep to it if we want to give you a chance of a decent recovery. That means you going to therapy at half past eleven. Just give it a shot, OK?” Fox spoke reasonably.

Alex answered with anything but.

“No.” He shook his head again, decisively. “No. I won’t.”

He then proceeded to walk towards the door to his room. Fox sighed tiredly. Wolf, angry now, stomped over the teen’s bedroom door and blocked the way, folding his arms.

“No, Cub. Therapy. NOW!”

Alex didn’t even flinch, instead he folded his own arms and fixed Wolf with an expert glare.

“Get out of my way.”

He didn’t want to hurt Wolf but if he had to, he wouldn’t be that opposed to doing so. As Alex tensed, his body automatically going into a fighting position, which clearly startled Wolf somewhat, Tamara’s radio crackled to life. It was Ed Shulsky. And he didn’t sound happy.

“How long does it take to walk from one corridor to another?!” He demanded.

“Alex doesn’t want therapy.”

“He has to have it. It’s on his schedule.”

“I know. He’s refusing to go.”

There was silence on the other end, Alex was tilting his head, wondering if he should take this moment of distraction as an advantage over Wolf. He could probably just sweep the older, short man’s legs from under him, that wouldn’t hurt the SAS soldier too much. From the radio, Ed cleared his throat.

“Orders are for Fox and Wolf, just them Tamara but you can follow, to take the kid there by force, but as little as necessary.”

By Alex’s grim expression, Wolf knew this wasn’t going to end well. Alex struck his leg out, whilst Wolf was still distracted, sweeping the older man’s legs out from under him. Wolf landed with a ‘hmph’ on the floor. Alex took a step forward, reaching for the door to his room, when someone grabbed his arms from behind. He thrashed in Ben’s arms, kicking the older man in the knee. It was a deadly accurate blow but although Ben’s knees buckled slightly, he still held onto the rebellious teen. Alex was screaming his head off.

“SHUT IT, CUB!” Wolf roared above Alex’s shouts, finally standing to his feet.

Alex suddenly stilled. His jaw clamped shut. Fox tried not to look as taken aback as he felt.

“Now, will you go to therapy?”

“No.” Alex growled.

“Right then.” Wolf nodded, speaking gruffly.

Fox took this as his signal and hoisted Alex onto his shoulder in the classic fireman’s lift. Alex squirmed, even as Fox clamped a hand down on his back.

“I’M NOT GOING!” He yelled.

Wolf frowned, motioning for Fox to lead the way. He and Tamara followed behind. They’d had strict instructions that Fox was closet to Alex so the best to use force as Alex might reason with him. Evidently not. The kid was screaming bloody murder. Wolf wasn’t entirely sure why. Yes, it was understandable Cub didn’t want to go but previous to this, Cub had been at least somewhat reasonable to their requests. He’d ate some breakfast. He’d eventually acknowledged his past comrades. He’d gone on the tour. He’d even been polite and warm mannered to the nurse. He’d ate his lunch. Now…

“PUT ME DOWN! I DON’T NEED THERAPY!” When they carried on walking… “BASTARDS! YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!”

Tamara’s ears were cringing as much as her conscience, she could see it was affecting Wolf too, the burly stance he usually held was becoming harder to maintain. His shoulders were drooping. It was almost like taking hit after hit to listen to the kid scream his voice hoarse.

Wolf motioned for Fox to stop, which he did. He walked over to Cub, frowning at him. The kid had angry tears in his eyes, which Wolf would never have expected.

“Cub…what’s the big problem? You’ve not acted like this before.”

“The problem is you. I don’t need therapy. This is pointless.” Despite his words, Alex’s heart was beating in fear.

This was worse than any unknown torture he’d faced. He would not be pouring his heart out for MI6, letting them know how badly they had affected him, how they’d won.

“Seriously, Cub. What’s up?” Fox agreed with Wolf, frowning at the boy on his shoulder.

Alex glared defiantly at them.

“If you haven’t figured it out then you can go fu-”

“Okay. That’s it. Shut it.” Wolf warned, glaring at Cub.

Surprisingly, he did. Fox shouldered Alex and the walk to the therapy room down the corridor was shockingly silent. They reached the door, with Ed standing outside it, looking furious but also a tad relieved to see them. He noted Alex on Fox’s shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“Bit of trouble?”

Wolf nodded, jerking his head at Alex.

“Double O’Nothing here wanted to play rebellious teen.”

Alex glared at the long-forgotten nickname. Ed nodded, digesting that information before opening the door. The room was plain, a boring office almost. Deep blue carpet, mint green walls, a pale brown settee pushed against the wall and a pale brown chair opposite this. The only giveaway that this wasn’t in fact a study was the long glass wall, running the length of the room. Alex guessed Mrs Jones and Joe Byrne were behind it. In the pale brown seat was the business woman who had helped him yesterday. He appraised her warily, still on Ben’s shoulder. Ben seemed slightly unsure where to put Alex, dumping the teen on the settee would just leave him free to move about. Ed moved forward with some rope again, he nodded at Fox.

“You’ll have to sit in for this session. They want someone to guard him.”

As he spoke, Wolf and Fox helped to keep Alex still, now standing on the ground as Ed tied the rope around his hands, in front of him. He made sure not to tie it too tightly; he didn’t want to hurt the kid. He didn’t meet Alex’s eyes the entire time. When he’d finished, he handed the end of the rope to Fox, who motioned for Alex to sit down on the settee. Wolf, Ed and Tamara left but he didn’t doubt that they were nearby. He glanced at the blonde haired woman from yesterday, who was watching him closely and dressed in her usually business attire.

“Hello, Alex. After yesterday, it’s nice to properly meet you. My name’s Anna. MI6 have employed me as your psychiatrist.”

Alex said nothing.

“I promise that anything you say to me today will remain in strict confidence. I will not repeat anything.”

Alex nodded his heads toward the glass wall.

“But they’ll watch it instead.”

Her lips quirked at the corners at that.

“I think I like you already.”

He inclined his head politely or sassily she wasn’t sure. And she had spent years reading into body language. Spies, of course, were bound to be a different matter. Fox sat back, the end of the rope still in his hands, still burning his skin with its roughness and his guilt. But he was content to let the conversation play out and melt into the settee until needed. Alex didn’t lean back, Anna noted. He stayed sat up straight, watching her with wariness not dissimilar to a feral cat.

“So, what do you want to talk about, Alex?” She asked, no warmth in her tone but curiosity.

He’d been dreading this. He wasn’t a freak show. He didn’t appreciate being treated like one.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

She pointed her pen at him, her clipboard resting carefully on her lap.

“Well, that’s a lie.”

He shrugged indifferently.

“Nothing I want to say to you.”

“What do you think about this situation? Being MI6’s and the CIA’s property?”

He purposefully glared at the glass window but said nothing. Anna smiled patiently at him, she tried again,

“They saved-”

“That was not saving me in there. That was condemning me to a different sentence.”

Behind the glass wall, even Mrs Jones winced. Ed, Wolf and Tamara looked slightly shocked and Joe Byrnes was resting an elbow on their side of the sill, running his hand over his face in stress.

“Okay. Well, what about Sam?”

Alex eyed her suspiciously.

“What about him?”

“You got on with him?”

“Yeah. He’s a good kid.” He spoke warily, as if wondering where the bullets were he was meant to dodge.

“Is that why your strategy was to get yourself beat up not him?”

Alex nodded, ignoring the accusation in her tone, simply saying ‘yes’ and hoping she’d leave it at that. She sighed. It was like drawing blood from a stone. There was a pregnant pause in the room. Alex shifted uncomfortably.

“Egypt.” She said abruptly, noticing his change in expression before he could mask it.

He felt sick. Honest to God, he would puke in a minute. The change in conversation was like someone had been walking amiably along, bickering pettily, before turning around and punching him in the stomach, the force knocking the wind out of him. Alex forced a smile onto his face. This was just like talking to the mad-men in the world. It was a dance of death in its own right. And who ever said words couldn't be dangerous weapons? At Anna's unyielding gaze, Alex glanced down at the rope around his hands, gaze sliding to the tense MI6 agent next to him. Ben Daniels was watching his every move. Alex rolled his shoulders, buying time. Anna didn't say anything. When the silence stretched uncomfortably long, he at last flicked his brows upwards, his brown eyes bored as he finally spoke,

"Paris."

"Sorry?" Anna asked.

"Are we not naming random countries to get a reaction?"

Alex's brown eyes were dancing with amusement but his tone was flat, detached. Anna laughed lightly, despite herself. Alex found himself staring out how easily that joy had left her, how open she was with everybody in the room to show that-

"-laughter is a natural reaction to humor. You should try it some time."

Alex huffed a laugh, turning his head away from her, from Daniels. Anna explained,

"We just need to know a few details. What did he do to you, Alex?"

Alex went still but the moment passed. He weighed up the question. He'd already decided he had nothing he wanted to tell these people anyway. He wasn't going to spill his biggest fears and braid Wolf's hair if that was what '6 wanted. He spoke carefully, his words slow and somehow not belonging to him. Detached.

 “He said he was interested in the study of pain.” Alex’s mouth tasted bitter.

Beside him, Ben tensed. Anna said nothing, her eyes doing the talking, asking Alex to keep explaining. He did. But he was no longer in that room with Anna and Ben. He was strapped to a gurney, the heat stifling, the rising panic in his chest cascading and falling as-as-as-

 “If it interests you as my psychiatrist, my pain broke his current scale.”

His voice cracked slightly. She stood at his bitter tone and Ben’s, quite frankly, desperate ‘I’m in way too deep’ expression. She brushed down her pencil black skirt, clutching her clipboard to her chest so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“No, Alex. That doesn’t interest me. It disgusts me.”

She let the silence wash over him.

 

She nodded again, before sparing Ben a quick glance.

“You can take him to his room now.”

She turned to face the window-wall, her expression stony.

“We’re done for today.” She spat at them, before exiting the room.

After Anna had left, Tamara walked back into the room. Fox gently moved to stand up, disentangling himself from Alex so he’d only hold the end of the rope, but Alex glanced sharply at him, frowning in confusion, the tears tracks still drying on his cheeks. He hadn't even known he'd been crying. 

“Jesus, Alex, it’s fine, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex opened his mouth to protest that wasn’t what he’d been demanding, then shut it, questioning that fact himself.

“Let’s get him to his room. I got authority to clear his schedule.” She smiled at Alex tiredly. “You should be good to just collapse.”

Alex nodded but he wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing flashes of that time. The heat, the sun, the explosions, Jack’s face, screaming his voice hoarse to have no one answer his cries and stop her death, kneeling there in the burnt out mess, wondering if she had felt any pain.

He followed them, surprisingly obediently than before, down the corridor. Ben’s hold on the end of the rope was the only thing needed to detain him. That was unnerving, considering the tranquilizers, arguments, fireman lift and every other damn thing they’d used against him to get him this far. Ben hated it. He felt like MI6 and the CIA were this vile, monstrous creature, and he was part of them.

They reached Alex’s room and Tamara keyed in the code, shielding it from Alex. They walked in, locking the door behind them, and Alex walked straight to his room and slammed the door without saying anything. Tamara stared at the door for a while. She sat down, waited half an hour, before knocking and entering without a reply. Ben left to go see if CIA headquarters had any secret stashes of beer. He bet Byrnes did.

“Alex?” Tamara asked quietly, perching on the end of his four poster bed.

Alex was sat at the top of it, staring, his eyes unfocused, into his lap, his legs were crossed. He glanced up, sighing heavily.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I'm not a big fan of therapy.” He said, dismissing it.

“Not about that. Well, yes, I am sorry that we had to drag you in there today," A rueful smile.

"But I meant I’m sorry for what happened to you. MI6, Razim, the whole bundle.”

He stared at her suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.

“Thanks.” He spoke slowly, unsure.

After about a minute of silence, Alex broke it. Tamara couldn’t hide her smile.

“How’s your shoulder?” He asked, referring to where she was short during the unfolding of Ark Angel.

She shrugged, the gesture itself an answer.

“Fine.” She fixed him with a dazzling smile. “Thanks for that mission, Alex. Outer space. Drevin. Saving the world. You did good.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t have much choice, did I? It’s not like the chimp would have understood.”

She shook her head, smiling at him.

“No, I suppose not,” Her laughter died and she stared intently at him, serious for a moment. “But you did good. As much as you hate being a spy, you’re amazing at it. MI6, CIA, well, we botched that one up, didn’t we?”

She took his silence as a yes.

“But you stopped Ark Angel, Alex. You did good. Real, humane good. I don’t think that comes from being at fault all the time.”

“Not all the time,” Alex huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Just that time. When it counted.”

She shook her head at that, resolution planting itself firmly in her mind. Alex could see it in her eyes, he all but groaned.

“I don’t believe that. Now,”

He raised his eyebrows.

“What do you like best? Pizza or Chinese?”

*

And so, Alex Rider ended his first day at CIA headquarters, in his ‘lounge’ sat with his six ‘babysitters’. Wolf and Ed were both in a heated debate about the football playing in front of them, whilst Alex, Fox and Tamara were eating pizza whilst watching Scooter and Texas have a little play around on their acoustic guitars.

“Will you turn that God forsaken racket down?” Wolf snapped.

“I like it.” Alex said defiantly, glaring at Wolf.

“Kid likes it, it stays.” Ed said, as if closing the matter.

“Okay, who put you in charge?-”

“The CIA, on several occasions-” Ed rose to the challenge.

“Just because Cub likes to challenge me on everything doesn’t mean you have to help the little squirt ou-”

Scooter and Texas both rolled their eyes and continued playing. Alex laughed at that. It was a short sound, but loud and…honest. An honest laugh. Not the ghosts, the dry, the humourless ones they were used to from him. They all stared at him. Even Wolf and Ed had stopped their bickering.  
Alex rolled his eyes.

“What? Never heard a laugh before?”

Fox cleared his throat into the uneasy silence that Cub was currently receiving as his answer.

“Ugh, not really from you, Cub, no.”

Alex stared at him for moment, his brain already forming a defence. Because they were all stand-up comedians, weren’t they? What came out of his mouth was…

“Not controlling emotions can get you killed.”

It was something he’d learnt to be true over the past few years.

They stared at him with something akin to horror. Alex frowned. Surely they knew that? Ben was frowning, knowing that yes, in the spy world that was true, but not all the time. Alex had to have known that already, right?

“You can let your guard down sometimes, you know that, right?” He asked.

Alex glanced away, staring at the long-forgotten football match.

“I’ve already had therapy today, Ben.” He said coldly. 

This prompted Scooter to pick up his guitar, in a valiant effort to lighten the suddenly cold, tense room, strike a few chords and start singing. Wolf held his head in his hands as Texas joined in, harmonizing the spontaneous song.

“This is bloody worse than Eagle.” He groaned.

Alex groaned too, twisting in his spot on the settee, so that his face was covered in a pillow, in the vain hope that it would muffle the sound. Ed was too busy laughing at Wolf’s agony to be annoyed with the song.

“Turn that frown upside down, yeah, turn that frown upside down-” Scooter’s lyrics were getting worse.

Tamara stood to her feet, ruffling Alex’s blonde hair as his face was still firmly attached to the pillow. She walked over to Ben, taking the remote from his armchair and switching the football off. Nobody was listening to it now anyways. Nobody could with that racket. Scooter took this opportunity to nudge Texas in the ribs, glancing knowingly at him and then at Alex, as if to say ‘follow my lead on this’. He struck the final two chords. Texas sang slightly after him, but caught on pretty well.

“Oooooh for he’s a jolly good spppppyyyyy, that nobody can denyyyyy!”

Alex snorted into the pillow, earning himself fondly bemused looks from around the room, unbeknown to him, as he refused to lift his face and look them all in the eye.

He stood his feet. On second thoughts, he was going to break that stupid guitar.


	6. The Mystery of San Francisco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's schedule for the day has been mostly cleared.  
> Yet, a single location on a map has him withdrawing into himself.  
> Both sides are hiding something...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sheepish look*  
> Hey guys, so I'm back. I'm not going to give endless excuses, I'm sure every fanfiction author leads a busy life, but I do apologise for mine taking my attention from writing for this long. Thank you so much to all the positive feedback and general amazingness in the comments- you guys gave me that push to carry on writing this fic! I will admit I was going to stop with fanfiction altogether as I just don't have the time atm but as it's Easter break here's a long chapter! Sorry it's more of a filler but it's all structural to the plan- mystery in the espionage world and what not! Anyways, on with the story!

Wolf knocked on the door.

From inside his room, sat on his luxurious four poster bed, Alex groaned into the pillows.

“Don’t come in.”

“ _Damn it_ , Cub. You need to get up sometime. Breakfast is here and we’re already behi-”

“Behind schedule. Yeah, I realized. Thanks, Wolf.” Alex called back dryly.

Wolf barely managed to bite back a yell of frustration. He turned his head sharply to Scooter.

“Well? Are you going to do something?” Wolf demanded.

From where he was lounging against the kitchen worktops, Scooter shrugged.

“Dude, he’s a teenager. They lie in. That’s a well-known fact.”

Wolf ignored him, turning back to Alex’s door. He decided that he didn’t really care whether Alex was dressed or not. They had a schedule to stick to and years of military training told him that despite the babysitting aspect he still had a responsibility, a job to do.

He pushed open the door. Alex rolled over in his bed, so that he could glare at Wolf.

“Up. Now.” Wolf barked. “Scooter cooked breakfast.”

Alex sighed and stood to his feet, wincing as his instinctual morning stretch pulled at his stomach wound. Wolf frowned. Alex chose to ignore this, brushing past the SAS soldier and padding barefoot into the kitchen.

“He’s alive!” Scooter exclaimed. Alex spared him a rare grin.

Wolf grumbled under his breath, closing the door to Alex’s room. Alex grabbed the plate of fried eggs and leant against the counter, eating. Wolf was already pacing the floor in front of him. Scooter, to the opposite degree, was led down on the settee, his feet up and his amused gaze watching Wolf work his blood levels up.

“You’ve got to eat that and get changed. We need to see your therapist at eleven thirty. Then, the higher ups want you to attend a meeting. They want you here straight after.”

“Then what?” Alex asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Nothing. Schedule’s clear then.”

“Who gave that order?” Alex was quick on the uptake.

“Jones and Byrne. Now, get ready. We can’t keep Anna waiting.”

Alex slowly finished eating his last mouthful of egg. He placed the plate on the counter near him, his movements lazy and time-consuming. He leant back on his hands, leaning on the worktop. Finally, his cool gaze flickered to Wolf’s impatient one.

“About that. I think we can all agree yesterday didn’t go so well. So, I’ve made the decision. I’m not going. And I mean it.”

Wolf sighed deeply, holding the bridge of his nose in what he considered to be a valiant effort at being patient. Scooter glanced between the two, sensing that there would most definitely be a heated argument in a moment.

“Okay then.” He said simply.

Wolf glanced at him incredulously, even Alex seemed taken aback. He quickly hid his reaction, his facial expressions cooling into a blank mask. Scooter shrugged and left the room. Wolf turned his head towards Alex, glaring at the boy. Alex ignored him, walking across the room and settling himself on the settee. Alex had barely watched more than two minutes of football before the door opened again. Scooter walked in.

Anna followed him. The door automatically locked behind them. Alex glared at Scooter but the man was purposefully avoiding his gaze. Anna was wearing a grey trouser-suit today, with a silky white blouse. She smiled confidently at Alex before taking a seat.

“Hello, Alex. I understand you didn’t want a session today?”

Alex said nothing. He glared at her.

“You may not have liked yesterday, that’s understandable. There’s no heads of MI6 or CIA watching here. Apparently, you’ve disabled the cameras in your spare time.”

Here her lips twitched slightly in amusement. Alex almost looked proud.

“It will just be Wolf and Scooter sitting in with us, for my security and yours. We can try it for today and see if it works better.”

Alex knew what she was doing. She was ‘giving him a choice’. It was how mothers handled their angered toddlers. You can either put the shoe on now and have a sweet or do it later and have no sweet. That sort of psychology. She took his silence as permission to continue.

“Now, I wanted to try a different exercise with you today. I gather you’re not one who likes talking about feelings all the time. So, I’ll say a word and you have to say a word that immediately enters your mind. If it’s after around 15 seconds then it won’t count. Okay?”

Alex grimaced but nodded. She was trying to suit his needs and his attitude problem. Trying. But he realised this exercise might be even more revealing than a cringe-worthy DMC. Scooter sat on the other settee, idly watching the conversation. In complete contrast to this, Wolf was stood by the door, tense, his body wired.

“MI6.”

“Bastards.”

“Sky.”

“Sun.”

“Bird.”

“Plane.”

She scribbled as she spoke, not looking up at him.

“Phone.”

“Gadgets.”

She raised an eyebrow at that one. She carried on writing.

“Snake.”

“Head.”

“Normal.”

“Lucky.”

He could feel Wolf and Scooter watching him closely. He ignored their gazes, staring at the wall and waiting for the next words.

“Family.”

“Dead.”

She sucked in a breath but ploughed on. Her voice was quicker, more urgent now.

“SAS.”

“Pricks.”

“Oceans.”

“Calm.”

“Karate.”

“Kick.”

“Roof.”

“Sniper.”

Her pen paused. She gave him a sharp look. He shrugged. Her eyes stayed on his, like a challenge, for the rest of the quick-fire questions.

“Plane.”

“Crash.”

“Parachute.”

“Wolf.”

Wolf sharply turned his head, frowning, a flash of anger in his eyes.

“Life-saver.”

“Yassen.”

Her eyes widened. Everybody in the room froze, shocked, even Alex.

“Yassen Gregovitch? You associate a _world known assassin_ with the word life-saver?” Anna demanded.

Alex glared at the floor. When he spoke, his voice was even, his tone calm.

“He saved my life once or twice. Or, rather, refused to end it.”

There was a pregnant silence.

“Well. I will have a look over your answers, Alex. We’ll talk about it in our next session.”

Anna stood, dusted herself off and hastily left the room. Alex cocked his head to the side.

“I think I freaked her out.”

“No shit, Cub!” Wolf raised his voice.

Alex, surprised, glanced back towards the man. Scooter, anticipating yet another argument, hastily jumped up from the settee.

“Okay, remember that really important meeting, Wolf? Yeah, Alex needs to be there in two minutes.”

Wolf sighed, nodding. He turned and opened the door, Alex stood and walked out of it, waiting until Scooter had locked the door closed before slamming his elbow into Wolf’s ribs, following with a backwards head-butt. It hurt him slightly but he could hear Wolf cursing. Scooter tried to grab his arm, to steer him away, but Alex used this to his advantage. He grabbed Scooter’s forearm and twisted the arm behind his back, holding it there before swiping his legs underneath the man, flooring the guy. Scooter groaned but Alex was already running. He dashed through corridors that all looked the same, trying to mentally remember his turns. Left. Then right. Left again. Right. Right again. He dashed into what was clearly a room of general staff, all typing at computers. Some glanced up in shock as he dashed by, quickly followed by Wolf and Scooter. He made it to the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly, until finally the doors closed. The elevator music grated on his last nerve. When the doors opened, he was in a plain looking hallway. Nothing special. He’d been trying to go down, towards ground level, but in his haste he’d confused the floors. Floor zero was evidently the ground floor, not the basement. Which meant that the floor he was on, floor one, was too high. The elevator was already going back down, probably to Wolf and Scooter. Damn it.

Alex carried on anyway, sprinting down the corridor, he was half-way down the long hall when a door opened rather abruptly. It was Fox, his attention leaving the people in the room, his eyes settling on Alex, his smile falling from his face.

“Oh.” He called back. “I found him.”

Alex tensed. Fox noticed Cub’s attacking stance with slight alarm. No defence fighting then? Despite appearances, he knew not to underestimate Alex Rider. Right now, he didn’t fancy going up against MI6’s most successful spy and the best agent they had. Although, he still had instructions from the psychiatrist that Alex might respond better to Fox restraining Alex as he knew Fox well.

“Cub, meeting’s in here.”

Cub was calming his breathing. He panted into the silence.

“We got a code red from Wolf and Scooter.”

Alex’s eyes were darting everywhere, looking for an escape. Fox inwardly sighed. Well, at least the kid tried the ‘flight’ instinct rather than fight him. That was something. Alex’s eyes landed back on Fox. He dropped his arms and adopted a more casual stance. Fox raised his eyebrows in surprise. The kid was being reasonable.  
Then, the elevator door opened. Wolf and Scooter came running down the corridor, Wolf shouting obscene words mixed with the word “Cub”. Alex immediately struck out at Fox, before turning to Wolf. Although Fox’s side hurt from the kick, he was still able to grab Alex’s arms from behind, by using the element of surprise. As Alex struggled in his arms, Fox glared at Wolf over the kid’s head of blonde hair.

“Wolf! DO YOU KNOW THE MEANING OF DISCRETE!?”

“I…uh..” Wolf looked at a loss for words.

Mrs Jones had entered the doorway from the room Fox had just left. Wolf visibly paled, biting his words back. Alex still struggled against Fox’s strong hold, his louder breaths the only sound in the corridor.

“Bring him in, Gentlemen.” The last word was a reprimand for their behaviour.

Fox dragged Alex into the room, Wolf following, Scooter bringing up the rear.

“Stupid SAS.” He muttered, closing the door.

The room was quite bland. White walls. A small table. A map of the world lain out on top of this table and seats dotted at its sides. Fox dragged a still-struggling Alex towards the empty chair in-between Mrs Jones and Joe Byrne. Scooter was quick to tie Alex’s hand behind him, as Fox held Alex’s arms down. They stepped away, to stand next to Wolf, melting into the shadows behind.

The first thing Alex did was take stock of his surroundings. Grave-looking adults staring back at him. Nothing new there then. He sighed, attempting to get the rope to give around his wrists. The action only served to aggravate already raw flesh around his wrists. He recognised a few people. Marc Damon from the ASIS was one, although he could not see Ethan Brooke. He was glad it seemed Marc had taken Ethan’s place. Ethan was too much alike to Blunt in his set of manipulation skills.  
He didn’t recognise the rest, although some faces seemed vaguely familiar. Alex took a deep breath.

“Hi, I’m Alex and I seem to be addicted to bull-shitting government agencies.”

Mrs Jones coughed on a peppermint.

“Hi Alex.” Someone said slowly. Marc Damon.

Alex grinned. In truth, Damon was relieved there was still some of the old Rider left. He had doubted how long the snark and sass would last when reading the missions Alex had been on since Snakehead.

“This is Agent Rider?” Someone asked. Glasses. Female. In her forties.

Mrs Jones nodded. Joe Byrne cleared his throat.

“Alex, these people represent other government agencies. Heads of their divisions, in fact. We’ve circled the bases you could stay at, should you choose to re-locate at any time.”

Alex’s eyes automatically drifted back to London. There was a circle over it. But he didn’t fancy staying in the Royal and General Bank, or even in Wales in Breacon Beacons. Besides, London would be too painful, there were too many memories.

“Why would I do that?” He asked slowly, his tone measured, careful.

A young women leant forward on her elbows, smiling condescendingly. God, where was Blunt? Alex suddenly preferred him to this patronising treatment.

“We want to show you that we’re here to look after you now.”

“If you fancied a holiday in summer, there’s Australia.” Marc Doman inputted.

Alex actually laughed.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

“Alex.” Mrs Jones said, her tone implying her patience was zero, “Just hear us out.”

Alex was quiet. Wolf, Fox and Scooter gawked in amazement. How did she do that?

“Obviously, there will come a point down the line that we wish to propose missions to you, involving these various places. However, we are more focused on gaining your alliance. Alex, we need you. And as much as you hate to admit it, you need us right now. There is no-one else. For both of us.”

Alex thought that one through for a minute or so. It was true he didn’t have anybody in the world fully understood his past anymore. The Pleasures, unaccustomed to most of Alex's MI6 missions, would never be able to offer him that same support Jack had. It was also true that these government agencies needed someone, someone as good as him, to play spy for them. But the cost it took was too much for him. He wanted out. He’d always wanted out. And that was clearly something they could never give him.

Mrs Jones looked at him, waiting for a reply. He stayed silent, not looking at her, glaring at the wall opposite instead.

“Teething troubles?” A more elderly looking man asked. He seemed genuinely concerned.

Alex ignored him. He didn’t trust these people. He couldn’t.

“Okay, that will be all for today, Alex.” Joe Byrne sighed.

Fox untied Alex’s wrists and retied them, so that he could guide Alex along by holding the end of the rope. Wolf and Scooter exited the room first. Alex stopped at the door. He ignored the pain in his wrists as the rope pulled again. Fox realised Alex had stopped and followed suit. As long as the teenager was brief. Alex took a deep breath but seemed to exhale something heavier than air.

“San Francisco.” He said.

He turned and left, leading the way down the corridor.

*

Alex did not want to speak to them. As soon as they’d locked the door to his room and let him go, he had walked straight into his room and slammed the door shut. The message was clear. Ben Daniels heaved a sigh. He could tell this ‘mission’ would wear them all down yet. Wolf was strangely silent. Reflecting wasn’t something the SAS soldier did often, he was used to making snap decisions and moving on orders. But he stared at Alex Rider’s door long after it had shut. Scooter excused himself and left the awkward room.

*

“You don’t think he’s escaped , do you? And we haven’t noticed?”

Ben raised his eyebrows, an amused smile playing across his lips. He was looking across at Wolf, from where he sat on the opposite settee. A football game was about to start but they weren’t really paying attention to the TV. In honesty, the thought had occurred to Ben. But he knew Alex was smarter than that. The kid would wait for a perfect opportunity. He opened his mouth to respond but Alex’s door opened. The creak cut through the silence. Although, the two men did not acknowledge it or make a comment as Alex walked out to the kitchen, barely making a noise, chose some popcorn out of the well-stocked cupboards and joined Ben on his settee.

Ben glanced between Alex and the TV, curious.

“Big Chelsea fan?”

Alex nodded but didn’t say anything more. Ninety minutes and one popcorn bag later, Alex stood from the settee and went back to his room, closing the door quietly. As soon as it shut, Wolf leant forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Okay. What was that about?”

Ben shook his head. He had no idea either.

“It’s not right…being so distant and unresponsive.” Wolf pushed.

“Maybe we should mention it to his therapist.” Ben mused.

“Something’s scaring him. And it’s not the idea of escape, or even all this.”

Ben nodded in agreement as Wolf gestured all around them, waving a hand dismissively across the area.

“It has to be the meeting then. What was it?” Wolf demanded.

“I’d be scared if intelligence agencies wanted to lend me out like a book to each other.”

“He’s not bleeding _Harry Potter_.” Wolf growled in agreement.

“I think it’s San Francisco. It must have brought back memories. I suppose they could get him a safe house. But the main American CIA base is here.”

Wolf ran a hand over his face, digesting his friend’s words. He exhaled.

“They’ll cross that bridge when they get to it.”

“But why San Francisco?” Ben asked aloud.

The question burned into the silence, unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are welcome! I'm going to make the end notes more of an answering box for them so I can clear up anything other people might be confused to as well.  
> So, on that note, someone mentioned in the comments last time that they don't really understand how Alex can 'belong' to them. That's kind of the whole point. He's his own person but they literally bought him out via a black-market/illegal trade. And they can't afford to let him go because they need him. So that's the point they're at! But knowing Alex, he's not going to take it lying down....


	7. Flying In Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is woken by Wolf at 2 AM. But what starts as a simple night exercise seems to be spinning wildly out of control...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off a big HELLO! 
> 
> Yes, I'm back, yes I will continue to write this fic. I want you guys to know that it's not for being bullied and pressured into writing- that's never why I write fics. So to people commenting 'long abandoned' or quoting me on 'tomorrow or the day after they said' it really puts me off writing, which I'm sure isn't what you wanted?
> 
> But to the people who saw my replies that I was dealing with some VERY personal issues (which I won't and shouldn't have to explain) and were patient and kind enough to reply with plot ideas and gently encourage me to put my hands to the keyboard- Thank You.
> 
> Myself and my health will always come before anything else, including fanfiction. I haven't been writing properly for a long time so forgive me if I make any errors. Sometimes we all need to heal our own worlds before shaping others.
> 
> Also, I'll admit this is a bit of a linking chapter but hey, you get to see Wolf, Fox and Alex interactions!

Someone was shaking his shoulders, shouting his name in his ears. Darkness nagged at his mind, pulling him back down, back under, back closer to sleep. But that someone was persistent. His eyes flung open, flashing with annoyance at the face before him.

“Wolf!” He growled.

“Jesus, Cub. You sleep like the dead.”

Alex glared at Wolf’s smug expression before something akin to worry flickered in the man’s eyes. Then Wolf was gone, hurrying around Alex’s little room, filling what appeared to be a small backpack.

“Uh, Wolf, what are you doing?”

Wolf didn’t reply. He carried on filling Alex’s bag, with clothes, toothbrush, a book, his Ipod. Alex frowned.

“Wolf?” He tried again.

Wolf zipped up the bag, his shoulders visibly tense, yet when he turned to Alex there was a forced smile on his face, the shoulders relaxed as if Wolf had flipped a switch.

“Training exercise. Like old times.” He breezed.

Alex, although still uncertain, was too tired to argue. He yawned, rubbing his hands over his eyes, opening them to find a wavering expression on Wolf’s face. When Alex looked up, Wolf’s gaze hardened.

“Come on, then, Double O’ Nothing.”

Alex rolled his eyes, swinging his legs out from the bed.

“I have to change out of these pyjamas first.”

“No time. Orders are: grab your stuff, grab _you_ and go.”

Alex narrowed his eyes, gaze zoning in on Wolf. The man was deliberately not telling him something. These were half-truths, designed to appease him. He shrugged.

“Whatever, Wolf.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement that Wolf needed. He shouldered the bag and walked to the door, his strides were long, hurried. Alex yawned again, running a hand through his bed-messed blonde hair. God, he really needed to cut it. Wolf tapped in the code and the door opened. 9610. Hm, Alex would have to remember that one. Wolf was half crouched, naturally tense and already beckoning for Alex to come slowly, like this was some sort of LA crime drama. Behind him, Alex snorted. Wolf turned to scowl at him before jumping out of his skin when Ben Daniels came the other way. Alex frowned at them, barely managing to get the words out over his next yawn.

“Is this a-“ He yawned, pausing to chap his lips together, “a-a-midnight, um, feast?”

The two SAS soldiers blinked at him.

“What? I had a yawn.”

Ben burst out laughing, earning himself a hit in the ribs as reprimand from Wolf.

“Aw but Alex is just too cute in the mornings.” Ben teased, eyes dancing.

Alex scowled at the older man.

“I won’t be so cute when I kick you where it hurts.”

“When would-ooof! Fu-”

Wolf rolled his eyes as Fox clutched his delicates, on his knees, on the floor.

“Cub. Don’t do that again.”

“You were laughing.”

Wolf couldn’t suppress his fiendish grin.

“I know.” He shrugged. “Just don’t do it again.”

Alex rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pyjama pockets. Wolf pulled Fox to his feet and signalled for them to carry on walking, following his lead. Ben nudged Alex in the ribs, earning himself a nudge on a pressure point that Scorpia had taught him. Ben half squirmed with laughter, half in pain. Wolf spun around.

“Will you two just behave!” He hissed through his teeth, namesake incarnate.

Alex pointed at Fox, whilst Fox automatically pointed at Alex.

“He started it.”

Wolf let out a sound half way between a sigh and a murderous rage. But Ben Daniels wasn’t laughing anymore. They had done it, he had done it. They’d gotten Alex out of his room and towards the plane with little to no resistance and no escape attempts. The guilt in his chest grappled for his lungs and squeezed as Alex sent an absent-minded smile his way. But it had been his job to distract Alex. To make it easier. Yet, somehow, even he didn’t believe those thoughts.

As they reached the double set of doors, Alex froze next to him. And then he turned round and made, for all the world, as if to shoulder brusquely past and back to his old room. Ben tried to reason with him, grabbing his shoulders and halting him in his tracks. He looked into Alex’s cold, brown eyes.

“Alex. Alex. This is what you wanted.”

Alex snorted and crossed his arms.

“I doubt that, Soldier.”

Ben grimaced.

“Okay, wrong phrasing. It’s San Francisco, Alex. And then Sam Worth.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Really? And then what?”

Ben’s lips pressed together. Damn, the kid didn’t miss a trick. Wolf was growing more irritated, where he waited by the door. He called out, interrupting them.

“And then we roast chestnuts by the fire and sing campfire songs.”

Alex rolled his eyes and turned to face the man. Ben let out a sigh of relief. He was facing the right way at least.

“I’m not getting on that plane. I’m not some fucking precious cargo to be shipped between fucking intelligence agen-”

And that was when Ben Daniels grabbed him around his waist and hoisted him over his shoulder. Alex yelled out and tried to kick him, bringing his leg up to Ben’s head in a freakish show of flexibility. Ben pinned them down with the arm that wasn’t already holding Alex down.

“Alex! For God’s sake, stop squirming!”

“I’ll stop squirming when you stop manhandling me!”

To his left, Wolf snorted at that. Alex and Ben both turned their heads and glared at him. Wolf shrugged, gesturing ahead.

“We’re here now anyway. Not much point in fighting the facts, Cub.”

Alex raised a single brow before throwing all his momentum over Ben’s head, forcing the man to bend and loosen his grip to keep his balance. Alex landed a perfect somersault and carried on running, not pausing for breath as he flew past barbed fence after barbed fence. The staff exit was just around the corner, he’d clocked it as they’d arrived...

“Bollocks.” Wolf cursed.

Ben’s head was still reacting poorly to Alex’s stunt. Next to Wolf, hands on his hips, he spat some excess saliva on the floor, as if in agreement. Wolf barely had time to mutter ‘gross, man’ before the ten agents at the exit walked over, Alex in toe, struggling as one of them held him to their body, a hand over his mouth. When they reached them, Alex bit down. Hard. The man cried out, his hand bleeding drops of red onto the ground. But Wolf had expected the move. He grabbed Cub and hauled him up the long-ass flights of stairs. He still struggled but at least he was being slightly more reasonable. Wolf’s hand wasn’t bleeding. As soon as Ben entered, the cabin crew slammed the airplane door behind them. Wolf had thrown Alex into a nearby cabin seat with little ceremony. Ben frowned disapprovingly as Wolf collapsed into the seat next to Alex and ordered three beers.

“I don’t drink.” Alex said between gritted teeth.

Wolf turned and gave him a slightly irritated look.

“Two are for me.”

Alex shrugged and stood to his feet, stretching his arms.

“I’m just going to walk about, stretch my legs.”

“What that sprint for freedom wasn’t enough? Sit down, Cub.”

Alex ignored him, slowly walking around the cavernous space. First class. Well, that _was_ a first. There seemed to be a business suite adjoining to their section of the plane, he recognised the dulcet tones of Mrs Jones and Joe Byrne. He rolled his eyes and continued scanning the plane. Four cameras, three bugs and two nearby exits that were currently sealed. The overhead speaker crackled to life.

“Hello, this is your captain speaking. I shall be flying this private plane to our destination- San Francisco. Now, I would ask for you all to be seated as- I don’t give a damn Byrne, we will not take off if there is a passenger without their seatbelt on. Anyhow, it’s mildly sunny in San Francisco, the cabin crew are at your disposal, we would like to make your flight as comfortable as possible so sit back and relax. I’ll speak to you again when we’re about to make our descent. Cabin crew last checks.”

As soon as the man had finished his sentence, Wolf strode over to Alex, grabbed his arm and pulled him to his seat. He shoved him into the chair.

“Put your fucking seat belt on.”

Alex merely raised a brow.

“I’d hate to be your child.” He muttered dryly.

All the same, he complied. It wasn’t the pilot’s fault he had to land this job or that his job now involved flying people who did not actually want to be flown anywhere unfamiliar. Alex sighed and looked out of the small port window. He was under no illusions. This was not going to be a holiday.

*

Ben Daniels ran a hand through his hair. God, it was getting long. In fact, he, Wolf and Alex would all need a trip to the barbers. Ben snorted to himself. Like ‘6 would ever let that happen. He glanced to the side, at Alex asleep in the window seat. He’d decided to sit in-between Wolf and Cub, after ten minutes into the flight, when the cabin crew kept giving him pleading looks and complaining loudly of migraines. Yet, Alex looked peaceful when he slept. Certainly, he didn’t look any different to any other teen. The sun from the window was shining on his blonde hair, his pale face was lax with sleep and those serious brown eyes were resting. Wolf leant over the arm rest to whisper to Daniels.

“He certainly doesn’t look capable of hitting you in the balls now, eh?”

Ben laughed softly, quietly, returning his gaze to Alex, who was mumbling in his sleep. Wolf frowned and leant forward to hear better.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Ben rolled his eyes.

“You might as well wake up then, Cub. Food trolley is coming round.”

Alex yawned and stretched, Wolf had to bite down on his retort, sensing Ben struggling to not coo at the teen. Wolf rolled his eyes. Like that would get Ben’s sore balls anywhere. The trolley, sure enough, came round. Wolf started unloading the whole thing into their laps. Alex coughed on a laugh.

“You got enough there, Wolf?”

Wolf narrowed his eyes, sticking his chest out slightly. Unfortunately, this made a packet of Wotsits fall the ground with the movement. He carried on, regardless.

“As this is all on MI6 and the CIA, no, I think I may need more.”

Alex rolled his eyes again but shook his head quickly as Ben passed him a yoghurt.

“No thanks. Too similar to baby food.”

“And why, pray tell, would that matter?” Ben inquired, eyebrow raised.

Alex grit his teeth together and glanced out the window, images flashing in his mind’s eye. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He was wheeled to the plane. Pitying looks, soft murmurs. And a woman he hated pressing baby food to his lips. He shook his head, either to clear it or in refusal to answer, Ben didn’t know. But then Alex spoke again.

“Let’s just say being publicly force-fed baby food, whilst drugged so you can’t move, still isn’t my favourite memory of a plane.”

Wolf and Fox gaped at him. Alex shrugged and turned back to staring out the window.

“I never did like planes.”

*

The plane landed at the airport at quarter past the hour. A blonde haired boy stepped out, two burly men on either side of him. To anybody watching, as he was hurried through the VIP section, he’d seem like another pampered celebrity child. And yet, to anybody who was watching the sleek black BMW move its way across the gridlocked city, they would’ve seen that he was there against his will.

Because written in the condensation, Alex Rider had attempted the oldest trick in the book.

It was a simple, matter-of-fact plea from one human to another: help.


	8. San Francisco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what is so special about San Francisco?  
> And why, oh, why, did Alex have to run away?
> 
> (A little poem by Ben Daniels)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> As promised, I've been working quite hard on this chapter and I really hope you guys like it! Have any of you read Never Say Die yet? I can't believe Horowitz has published a new one after all that pain from Scorpia Rising! All I'm saying is as long as he doesn't nick my plot we're cool ;)
> 
> As always, let me know what you think, ideas you have for this piece etc. 
> 
> Kudos xxx

Alex Rider scowled as he walked towards the door leading up to his new apartment. 

It wasn’t the idle rain which bothered him, light and lazy in its downpour, it wasn’t even the fact that he was in new, unfamiliar city. No, it was the fact that he was flanked, in front and behind, by some of the best soldiers and spies in the world.  
He was beginning to feel like there was no escaping this. But he’d been in worse, far more dire, situations before and still survived. His brown eyes turned hard, his expression grim as he steeled himself against the unknown- the building he was about to enter. 

Their little procession came to a halt outside a small town house building, set on one of the quieter streets in the neighbourhood. Even so, Alex could make out the distant sound of traffic and rumble of thunder overhead. He rolled his eyes. He’d forgotten about the freak storms America had in summer evenings, so different to the cool, breezy nights in London. 

The door to the town house swung open under Tamara Knight’s touch- finger print safety, he noted- and she ushered him inside. The front porch opened up slightly to a set of stairs, these narrow and thin, the dark wood of the banister curving in like some branch ripped off a gnarled, twisted tree in winter. 

Tamara unlocked the door at the top using a large set of old fashioned keys, which made Alex’s brows raise in surprise. Surely, MI6 had better security than that? Tamara Knight caught the look, her lips curling upwards as she shook her head at him. Don’t even think about it. Alex huffed out a breath of bemusement, leaning against the doorway as Tamara fiddled with the keys, fixing her with a wry smile which she chose to studiously ignore.  
They entered the flat and as the door closed behind the small ensemble of guards, soldiers, spies and just plain babysitters, Alex froze. He’d been expecting a room with no personality. A clean bed, a wardrobe, a bathroom, as had been at the CIA compound. But this…this wasn’t what he’d expected at all. It wasn’t even a prison. No bars. No cells. Nothing to separate him from the others. That’s what he was most stumped by. Nothing to separate them at all. As if thinking the same thing, Ed Shulsky took a too-casual step away from him. Alex only looked passed the group, noting the other doors- possibly leading to another exit- and the set of keys now in Tamara’s jacket pocket. Surprisingly, it was Wolf who broke the silence, albeit by growling through the quiet, shifting on his feet as though he couldn’t stand to just do nothing all day.

“So…Welcome to San Francisco, Cub.” 

Alex didn’t deign to dignify that with a response. He simply walked towards a room, noted it was a bedroom, and slammed the door behind him. Only when he was led on the single bed a moment later, did he loose a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. 

*

Around five o’clock, two hours after arriving in San Francisco, Alex heard a familiar voice talking on the other side of his door. 

“How has his appetite been?”

“Not well.” A tight-lipped, too-thin answer. 

“His attitude?”

Fox let out a sigh and Alex could picture him on the other side of the door, running his hands through his hair. It gave him a small amount of satisfaction that he was proving such a difficulty to contain. Joe Byrn truly had been desperate to think ever locking up the world’s youngest spy, one of the best, would ever be a good idea.

On the other side of the door, talking to Alex’s psychotherapist, Fox said as much. Anna sighed, shaking her head to herself, her platinum blonde hair swaying with the movement. She quirked her lips to the side, as if chewing over her thoughts. Her sharp, green eyes held Ben Daniels’s as she glanced towards Alex’s bedroom door. 

“I’ve requested to be posted here. I think it’s best for Alex.”

Fox dipped his head, “Of course.”

She wrung her hands together, the pale skin contrasting starkly with her usual black business suit- a pencil skirt and black three-quarter sleeved shirt. With black stilettoes. 

“I don’t know if there’s a spare room…”

“Have mine. Down the hall, to the left.”

Fox let some warmth into his eyes, summoned that kind, if faint, smile. The front door opened, banishing any feeling of good-will or comfort. In the doorway, a large group of men stood, scowling. The one in the middle was familiar, Fox  
recognized him immediately as the bastard who’d slapped Cub at the initial meeting. The man was near Fox’s own age, probably mid-twenties, but was built as though he’d spent his nappy years weight-lifting. His biceps were far bigger than Fox’s, bigger even than Wolf’s, and now that he wasn’t sat down, he looked downright imposing. Every inch of Fox was wired at the threat and he took an unconscious step forward- blocking Tamara. And Alex’s door. The other men on either side of the young man were clearly unimportant, unrecognizable faces. Numbers to even the field. They seemed detached, unfazed that the man in the middle of the doorway was entering dangerous territory. Perhaps, if they truly didn’t care then Fox could dissuade them to leave, although he knew it was a different story when it came to the young man in the middle. 

“Where is he?” The man growled. 

Fox straightened, eyeing the man warily. 

“Who are you?”

The man took a step forward, eyes flashing with anger. 

“I shouldn’t have to explain-

-this is a top secret operation. We can’t just let you in without confirmation of your identity.” Fox interrupted.

His words were smooth, calculated, plucked straight out of a text-book. Like flowing water on a scalding burn, it soothed some of the obvious tension in the air. The man held out an identity badge. Head of Interrogations and National Affairs. CIA. Kyle Lance. Fox’s brows rose. Now why on Earth would they be sending him? He silently handed the badge back, his only words of reply or acknowledgement were to breathe in deeply through his lungs and bellow,

“We have visitors!”

In moments, Wolf was stalking into the room, taking up a casual position at Ben’s side. Ed followed not a second later, stopping short at the scene, his eyes travelling between them all quickly, before striding towards the men in the “hallway” space. Before he’d even crossed halfway across the room, Tamara Knight walked in, casually assessing the scene as she idly twirled a knife in her hand and took up a seat on one of the comfy arm chairs, spinning so instead of facing the TV, she was facing the obvious threat. Two seconds after her appearance, Scooter and Texas strolled in, both casually leaning against a wall each, one in the lounge next to Tamara, the other by the kitchen. All spaces covered by the time Ed had crossed the floor to do any formal introductions. Ed held out his hand,

“Hi, I’m Ed Shul-”

“I don’t give a damn who you are,” The man jerked his chin towards Alex’s door, “I came for the brat.”

Surprisingly, it was Wolf who stepped forward, as he growled, namesake incarnate.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Or what, soldier?”

Wolf opened his mouth to reply exactly what but Anna was the one who smoothly cut in, years of diplomacy falling into place. From his bedroom, Alex heard every word as he chewed on his bottom lip, eyes scanning the door, as if it held the answer to his decision. To go outside and face whoever it was or to stay here, safe, but a good little pet. 

He heard Anna’s muffled voice through the door.

“Alex has been through a lot and has had a very trying day. He is under orders to see no-one, absolutely no-one, until some intense therapy sessions have happened. I will be taking up residence for this but I must insist you leave; it’s in his best interests. We can save this for another day.”

Alex waited. His heartbeat was rapidly beating as he sat stock still on his bed. Stay or go. Stay or go. In the end, his instincts decided for him. 

“I don’t give a damn what’s in that little shit’s best interest.”

A firm step on the wooden floors, a single stiletto moving forward from the light cracking through under the door. 

“As his psychotherapist, I do. So, I’ll kindly ask you gentlemen to leave.”

A creak, as she shifted her weight on those wood floorboards, as if turning to leave. A small gasp of pain and an answering growl,

“I will kindly ask you to mind your own business, you bitch.”

Alex didn’t care that he may be playing into the man’s hands by leaving his room. In fact, he didn’t much care for anything at all as he shoved the door open, shouldered past Fox and Wolf, who were both intent on how to best kick the ass of the man before them, and beat them to it. Kyle was holding Anna by her hair, gripping it tightly and growling in her ear. Without thinking too much about the consequences, Alex launched himself at Kyle, throwing the man to the ground, before landing a skilled blow to the ribs and then, as the man doubled over to protect them, meeting his face with a fist. He threw the man to the floor.

“Don’t you ever speak to her like that.”

Alex pinned the man’s hands to his sides, leant in close, their noses almost touching. He had no doubt the man could see all the small details: from the faint freckles on his nose to the lethal promise of death in his brown eyes. 

“Ever.”

They both panted angrily into the silence. Everyone else was too busy gaping in shock to interfere. 

“Apologize.” Alex growled.

But the man thrust his knee upwards, into Alex’s stomach. Alex blanched as he felt his still-healing wound rebuke him for the mistreatment and then the man had rolled them, so their positions had flipped. He lent forward, his words nasty and cutting as they broke the tense silence of their ragged breaths.

“You should apologize. I’ve had twenty four 911 calls about an abducted blonde-haired boy in a BMW because of your little trick!”

“It’s the oldest trick in the book.” Alex hissed at him, through the little breath he could use as the man put his weight on him to hold him down. 

Alex noted that Tamara, Ed, Scooter, Texas, Wolf, Fox and Anna were all being talked to by the men who’d flanked Kyle, in a tone like they were being debriefed. The men successfully provided a human barrier between them and Alex. And outnumbered them. Alex shook his head at himself. Stupid to think that. No, these people only outnumbered him. Kyle motioned with a hand and two of his soldiers came over and lifted Alex to his feet, holding him by his armpits, one on each arm, holding him back as Kyle stepped right into his personal space, torsos a hairsbreadth away from each other, his sneer the only thing Alex could see. 

“I am under orders to find out why this happened. But I’d say that’s pretty obvious.”

Alex glared at him, his expression dark with fury.

“I am not going to let you lock me up and forget about me, if that’s what you mean.”

The man’s eyes flashed with ire. He searched Alex’s own for some sort of sign of weakness, maybe. Alex only glared. 

“No, Alex, we couldn’t forget you.” He spoke quietly, which somehow worried Alex more.

But Alex looked away, feigning boredom. Kyle gripped Alex’s chin, forcing the boy to meet his burning gaze. Alex’s cheeks burned as he noted Wolf, Fox and the rest of his babysitters still being held back, watching with worried eyes. Screw their worry. Screw the whole system. 

Whether Kyle saw this in his eyes, Alex didn’t know- didn’t care. 

“You belong to MI6 and the CIA. Do you understand that?”

“I belong to no-one.” Alex grit out. 

The hand on his chin tightened, those frozen dark blue eyes hiding a deeper evil lurking beneath. But Kyle merely straightened and turned to face Tamara, Ed, Wolf, Fox, Scooter, Texas and Anna. 

“Alex has a little attitude problem.” 

Kyle’s gaze flicked to Alex, with a sneer. His attention turned back to the group.

“Now, I’m here to try and straighten that out. If the little shit escapes, you use force. If he claims he’s not property of MI6 and CIA, you use force. If he so much as throws a tantrum, you use force.”

He smiled, the gesture a quick, cold thing. 

“Like this.”

And with that, he turned around and dug his nails into the spot where he knew the knife had dug into Alex’s belly. Alex yelled and reared back, struggling to break free from the hold the two men had on him. Kyle merely dug his fingers in more, moving them slightly, until he felt a stitch pull and Alex screamed as Kyle’s hand dug into his flesh and bone. 

Alex could hear a loud string of swear words, namely in Wolf’s voice, and his own voice screaming over the top of it all. The pain eddied and ebbed at his side but he pushed the darkness in his mind, the threat of passing out, away. He panted heavily into the silence as Kyle removed his hand from piercing Alex’s stomach wound and patted Alex on the cheek, leaving a fingerprint of Alex’s own blood. Alex said nothing. He’d retreated, for now. To gather his energy. His wits.  
To show them all he was not and never would be property. He would not be contained like that.

For now though, he merely panted heavily into the quiet. Kyle smirked and motioned to his two men to fall back, leaving Alex to drop to the floor in a crouch over his stomach. He didn’t look up as he heard the footsteps retreat, as the men left the room. He only stared as his blood dripped onto the wood, creeping under the cracks in the floorboard. He continued seeing nothing as Fox rushed over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Alex didn’t react. 

“Alex! Alex? Are you alright?”

Wolf’s lazy footsteps and disapproving drawl.

“Yeah, Fox, he’s great. Just bleeding out but peachy.”

Fox ignored him. As the rest of them frantically moved about, Tamara calling MI6, Ed calling CIA, Scooter and Texas tending to Anna, Fox grabbed Alex’s face with his hands, forcing the boy to meet his gaze.

“Hold in there, Cub.”

Alex knew he wasn’t just talking about the physical damage. 

He didn’t say anything. Not as Wolf and Fox tended to his wounds, patching him up. Not as Wolf injected him with morphine for the pain. Not as Ed was cursing down the phone at Byrne for letting that “interrogation prick” near Alex. Not as Tamara was speaking in clipped, hurried tones down the hall to Mrs Blunt on the phone. Not as Anna finally stopped trembling. Not even as Scooter and Texas started to make dinner. No, Alex simply allowed himself to be tended to, stood up and went to bed, murmuring about “not being hungry”. 

If he’d known Ben Daniels was worried, he would’ve told him not to bother. 

Because this wasn’t Alex about to fall apart. 

This was Alex finally deciding the only option left was…to explode.

*

Alex Rider wondered if he should be worried about how easy it had been to slip past the combined task-force of SAS, ASIS and CIA operatives, whose sole duty was to watch him like a hawk.

As cute as Anna’s idea for round-the-clock therapy had been, Alex would be passing on that. As soon as he’d been alone in his room, he’d taken a cold shower, letting the cool spray calm his temper. He had to focus. He needed to get out of here and to do that, he needed the key. He knew Tamara had insisted on old fashioned keys due to his tendency to remember codes. He smiled grimly to himself as he pushed open the shower window, letting the steam out. Wolf hadn’t had time to check the windows; else it had slipped from his mind. Not surprising, given the house warming they’d had. Tamara would not be as negligent with the keys, those would be either guarded or on her person twenty four seven. He couldn’t afford to arouse their suspicions. Right now, he was ‘poor Alex’ who had just-been-attacked. They wouldn’t bother him for a few hours yet. He tested his escape route, putting an arm through, weighing the distances, the measurements…he could do it. Although he didn’t have the keys, or a gadget or make-shift weapon, he did have one advantage. 

He was an expert at window-scaling. It was what had landed him the job in the first place, after all.

Alex Rider allowed himself all of one deep breath in and out before placing both feet on the sill, which mercifully covered a distance of at least half his body, enough to let him angle out, feet on the sill, body clinging to the brick wall of the exterior. He shook his head in grim disbelief at himself. This was one thing he had hoped not to repeat again. But he’d done it once. He could do it again. 

“At least there’s no flagpole this time.” He muttered under his breath.

Alex Rider took a leap of faith and was on the streets of San Francisco in three minutes. 

He’d left a single note for them, encase they went knocking on enemy doors for him. He didn’t know why he’d bothered. It wasn’t like he should care what the intelligence agencies did or thought now. He’d left the keys in the door so they could still access the house as they pleased. He smiled as he opened the door to the taxi. At least he played nice. 

*

It was Texas who noticed first. He knocked quietly on Alex’s door, left-over dinner in hand. He doubted the kid could stomach it, not with his injuries still so sore, but it was worth a shot. Nothing. No sound, no movement, no breathing…Texas opened the door and found an empty bed. He swore under his breath, already reaching for the hand gun he kept at his side. He did a quick search of the room but it was clear. The boy who had dropped in on them from outer space was gone. The bed was still warm, he couldn’t have gone far. Unless someone had kidnapped him…Texas didn’t allow himself to think that one through, simply sat down and began methodically cleaning his gun. Scooter strolled over and leant in the door frame, his ridiculous biceps stretching as he crossed his arms and raised his fair brows at his partner. 

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning my gun.” Texas growled.

Those friendly eyes lost a bit of light. Narrowed.

“Why?”

“To kill the bastard who took Alex.”

Scooter seemed to still at the words, blinking slowly, turning his head as if the very movement of that whilst trying to comprehend Texas’s words…as if it cost him. That was terror in his eyes. And Texas could guess at the thoughts, ravaging behind Scooter’s mind. He had blocked them out himself. What Scorpia would do with Alex…what they could do when the kid was so weakened by that national affairs prick. He stood from the bed, holstering his gun to his side, and braced a hand on Scooter’s arm, scanning his partner’s eyes with grim determination.

“We’ll find him.”

“Should be pretty easy.” A British voice huffed.

And that was Ben Daniels stood there, watching them, more annoyed than furious. More casual when he should be terrified for his charge.

Scooter shrugged off Texas’s hand and stood up straight, hands curling into fists at his side, stepping closer to Daniels. Texas held back, watching the tension between the two, the quirk of Daniels’s lip, the deathly stillness limning every inch of Scooter’s body.

“Is that some sort of joke? I know you British are dry with your humor but…”

Scooter shook his head, words failing him, as he looked at Daniels with disgust in his eyes. Daniels held up his hands in mock-surrender. 

“Hey, I’m not joking. Look, do you think I’d be this calm if Alex was in real danger?”

They said nothing, glaring at him, waiting. Daniels glanced around, as if nervous the other agents would overhear. He took a step closer, until they were stood in the world’s smallest triangle of people. Three burly men like them. Texas thought it a bit melodramatic but kept quiet as Daniels whispered to them,

“He left a note. Read for yourself.”

He passed them a note. It had been written hastily and was on a scrap of unlined paper, creases in the paper telling that Daniels had folded and unfolded the note, perhaps unsure it was real or genuine. The two Australians read it in silence. When they were done, Texas merely scowled- the only sign of surprise he’d show. But the emotion was written all over Scooter’s face as he ducked his head, whispering as Daniels had done, in an effort to be inconspicuous. 

“What’s the plan?”

“We find him now. Before Wolf or Ed notice.”

Texas was already lacing up his boots as Scooter grabbed a flash-light off the nearest table and Ben Daniels folded the note back into his pocket. Texas stood when he was done tying his boots and turned to nod at Daniels and Scooter. As they left the town house, Scooter grumbled under his breath, 

“Next time, he better pick Australia.”

Texas grunted his agreement, even if Ben Daniels was so far passed humor that he didn’t even deign to respond. He only grabbed the keys from where Alex had left them in the door and hurried down the stairs after the two Australians. Where on Earth would a teenager go in San Francisco on a Saturday night? 

*

Alex Rider was pushed against the wall with little choice in the matter.

Small, tanned hands ran through his blonde hair and the girl in front of him, a stunning brunette, whispered in his ear,

“I missed you, Alex.”

The words were slow, sensual. Alex licked his dry lips. He could take on the biggest villains this world had seen, had saved said world multiple times but when it came to approaching girls…he didn’t have a clue where to start. Damn Ian for leaving that part out. 

It hadn’t been difficult to sneak into a club though, perhaps those spy instincts were worth more than just getting caught in a tangled web of lies, deceit and MI6. He’d tracked Sabina Pleasure here, to a loud, techno bar in San Francisco. He looked into her wide blue eyes as she searched his face. He’d almost walked back out the door when he’d seen her. She was dressed in a tight, white satin dress, hugging all the curves that hadn’t been there the last summer they’d had together, and high heel wedges so tall she stood on level with him during conversation. 

“Sab…”

Alex lent his head against the wall, throat bared, eyes lidded. Sab didn’t miss a trick. She moved closer, hands soothing circles on his hipbones whilst her lips planted a little trail of kisses up his neck. He caught her chin in his hand as she reached his face with those lips. 

“I’ve missed you too.”

And then he brushed his lips against hers, gently, at first, ignoring the thrum and beat of the techno music, the flashing green and blue strobe lights, the heaving, hot crowd of dancers near them. Sabina looped her arms around his neck and Alex deepened the kiss, heart racing. She placed her hand over the top of it, as if she knew, and looked him straight in the eyes. Brown verses blue. 

“You’re home now.”


End file.
